A Day on the Planet
by Arlia'Devi
Summary: Commander Spock thinks their relationship begins when he asks Cadet Uhura to attend the Interstellar Linguistics Conference in New York City in Captain Pike's place. Uhura thinks it's when Spock asks her to teach him how to dance. But Gaila knows it all really began in the first few moments after the creation of the universe; when the dust combined to create new life. Book I of V.
1. Chapter 1

**Chapter One:**

Second semester of Nyota Uhura's second year of Starfleet begins at 0800 on the 4th of July. She is in Advanced Phonology (Professor Sprig), Advanced Klingon (Professor M'enganga) Interspecies Protocol (Professor Kim) and her second year Xenolinguistics major compulsory class. The day before classes, the 3rd, is warm and bright. It's a perfect San Francisco morning when she arrives back on campus from her month-long visit home to Kenya.

Gaila is waiting for her when Uhura swipes her way through into the quarters they share. It's a small cramped room with a smaller bathroom. The bathroom light doesn't work so there's a lamp dangling hazardously close to the wash basin. There's a kettle, some tea and a small sink where two mugs sit awful lonely. The room is then split up into two - Gaila's is on the left and is decorated with collectables she has illegally confiscated. To the right is Uhura's and compared to Gaila's it is very plain and boring - a desk, a bed, a bookshelf of text books, some photos of family, a money box that is always empty.

Gaila sits on the bed, flicking through a comic on her COMM but jumps to her feet when she sees Uhura enter. The cadet shuffles through the door, lugging her suitcase behind her as Gaila embraces her tightly.

"I thought you'd never get back," complains Gaila. "I've been waiting for you for forever!"

Uhura hugs her back and the woman smells like sweet soap and something she can't quite put her finger on. She knows it smells divine, and that it's supposed to.

"It was like, so boring here without you."

Uhura pulls the suitcase into her room and throws down her backpack on the bed.

"How long have you been here?" she asks, unzipping the bag.

"I went to South America for two weeks with Dru from xenobiology. I got back last Sunday. It was good but oh my god, he was so annoying. We went to the top of one of those Inca pyramids, which were really cool by the way, but the only think I could think about was how much I wanted to push him off the top of it."

Uhura smirks, "So, not going to see him again?"

"It will be too soon if I do," she huffs and then instantly perks back up again. Gaila has a habit of not letting anything or anyone get her down for long, Uhura has noted on more than one occasion, and instantly the beautiful Orion girl is bubbly again. "Let's go out for drinks, celebrate the new semester!"

"We're supposed to celebrate the end of the semester," she informs Gaila. "I should get the readings for my classes finished first. And unpack."

"Did you get me a present?" Gaila prods.

"Did you get me one from South America?" she turns, a small grin on her face.

"Of course!" Gaila beams, pottering over to her side of the room.

"_Okay_…," Uhura caves. "I might have gotten you something. Actually, my mum made it for you." She opens her suitcase and rummages around to a small knitted pouch and hands it to Gaila.

"Aw!" croons Gaila. "Aw man this makes me feel bad - I smuggled two bottles of _Aguardiente_ onto campus for us to share, but it wasn't like, handmade!"

"Gaila, you shouldn't have done that!" she cries, but there are the bottles, large and full of a foul smelling liqueur sitting on Gaila's desk, as proud as punch.

"Oh this is super cute, thanks Ny!" she grinns. The present is a small doll her mother has crafted from dyed wool and strings with distinct features like red-hair and green skin. The doll has blue eyes and a little red Starfleet dress on. "It's a good likeness!"

"I really gotta unpack," she says.

"Okay," Gaila says, beginning to strip off for a shower. "Go unpack and we'll go out for dinner after."

It is easy enough to settle into their normal routine and Uhura does decide go out for dinner with Gaila as a chance to catch up before the stress of classes. They leave campus and walk to a small sushi place in causal civilian clothes. Gaila is dressed considerably reservedly for the dinner - short cream cut-offs that show her long, green legs and a simple t-shirt and sandals. Uhura is wearing a light yellow summer shirt dress that buttoned down the front and a pair of tan slip-ons when Gaila pats against her arm somewhat violently, desperately wanting to get her attention.

She frowns, looks over from where she is trying to read the score on a girls' basketball game in the quad to tell her roommate to knock it off when she sees Commander Spock approaching her with almost a dozen PADDs in his hand and a textbook hitched under his elbow.

"Do you need help with that, Commander?" Gaila instantly offers, stepping to meet Spock has he approaches.

"Cadets," he greets with a small nod but does not offer any of his carry load to Gaila. "Welcome back for the semester. Cadet Uhura, since I happened to see you now, here is your PADD for Advanced Vulcan and Interspecies Ethics assessments back from last semester." He took the top PADD from the pile and handed it back to her. "Interesting thesis for Ethics. Well executed. I found it satisfactory."

To anyone else, satisfactory is not a great feedback. Uhura quickly boots up the PADD and brings the paper on screen. He had taught both classes last semester - a workload which must have been challenging in itself.

"Thank you, sir," she replied. An 84 for Advanced Vulcan - a low High Distinction, and a 92 for Interspecies Ethics, not the highest marks she's ever gotten but the highest marks she's ever received from the Commander. Suddenly, 'satisfactory' doesn't sound quite so bad. "Your feedback is important to me, thank you for taking the time to write notes on the assessments."

"There is an application for a teaching assistant in the Xenolinguistics department closing in four days' time. True, the assistantships are usually reserved for third and fourth year students, but I would encourage you to consider submitting an application for it," he advises. "I would also like you to come by office during this first week when you find yourself with a spare hour. My office hours are from three to six in the evenings."

"May I ask to what you wish to speak with me about?" she asks.

"You may," he replies evenly and then adds, "When you visit my office." Uhura almost quirks a grin before Spock nods and shuffles his collection of PADDs again. "Enjoy your evening, Cadets."

The sushi is good. Gaila picks her dishes off the small revolving carousel of Japanese food and enjoys the novelty of it being a semi-challenge in successfully manoeuvring the piece from the carousel belt to her dish using the chopsticks. It has resulted in a few causalities; however, they are usually just scooped up by hand and make a short trip from counter to mouth without so much as a blink. Uhura picks at her sushi. The three chicken and vegetable hand roles are being rolled around on her plate by her chopsticks. She looks to Gaila, who is pouring more sake.

"What do you think he meant about submitting an application as his teaching aide?" Uhura asks.

"I think it means he'll hire you if you do," Gaila says matter-of-factly, before grabbing another piece of sushi from the train. "It's a paid position you know, Nyota. Go for it. If he says submit, then submit?"

"Paid?" Uhura echoed. "How much?"

"There's something about tuition, some little pocket credits on the side. It wouldn't be much different pay wise with my IT assistantships," she says through a mouthful of sushi. "I mean, it's not a lot of money, but it's more about the experience."

"Yeah, well I guess."

"Do you think he wants to talk to you about something dirty?"

"Not at all."

"Well, what can it be?"

"Maybe he's found an interesting book, or just wants to talk to someone - I don't know Gaila, I'm not a mind reader."

"Pity," she considers. "But yeah that's probably right. I can just picture you two talking about the variances of verbs in a sentence or something and getting all hot and bothered about it."

"That's your fifth sake, Gaila, and it's a school night," Uhura notices.

"Cool your jets," Gaila complained. "You know I can handle much more alcohol than this. If anything over the break, drinking all that South American booze, I've gotten better."

The evening goes on and they end up halving their bill for the sushi, though Gaila pays a little more because the restaurant has charged her for all the sushi that has fallen on the floor. They make the slow walk back to campus but not before stopping at an ice-cream vendor to grab dessert.

"Banana is my favourite flavour," Gaila sings as they walk home in somewhat silence, both preoccupied in licking from their ice-creams.

"Chocolate rules all," Uhura replies. "If you polled everyone on Starfleet, chocolate would come out supreme. Maybe that's an interesting experiment I could conduct. Certainly wouldn't win me any awards, though."

"What about vanilla?" asks Gaila. "It's like, everywhere, someone must like it."

"Vanilla is good, but it's boring. Vanilla ice-cream tastes the same everywhere pretty much. It's a safe option. Everyone buys flavoured ice-cream when they go out, especially flavours you can't get in the store, like, um well, salted caramel chocolate, or, banana raspberry swirl and stuff."

Gaila giggles, "I didn't realise the politics of ice-cream were so serious. Banana raspberry swirl sounds amazing. Maybe next time I will get that."

They swipe their way through the small pedestrian gate for after-hours access and then again into the large hall that house the cadet dormitories. It's a large square, ugly (in Uhura's opinion) building, but it's surrounded by small gardens and oversized outside chess boards, in which she's watched Cadet Chekov win three small tournaments out there on a Saturday afternoon.

Gaila opens the window to their apartment and the two sit on the small dining chairs they've moved out the balcony to enjoy their dessert. The night is so warm and breezy, and San Francisco is strangely quiet. It's everything a midsummer's night should be.

"Can you believe we're almost half way through our cadetship," Gaila says, rolling her head to look at Uhura and placing her feet up on the rails. "Soon we'll be out there."

'Out there' is space, big and dark and all-consuming.

"Nervous?" Uhura asks.

"We could be called on at any time to you know, do space stuff," Gaila considers.

Uhura laughs. "Space stuff?"

"Yeah. Space stuff."

"I would ask for a more specific mission than just "space stuff" before I signed on to go into outer space."

Gaila hits her playfully on the shoulder. "You know what I meant. Like rescue missions after receiving an emergency beacon, or first contacts or-"

"Translating space jumble from space static. Realising two Klingon personnel are only talking about their favourite foods and not planning to attack," she hums. "I'll be stuck calibrating translator after translator, wondering if I'll ever actually get to go out into the field."

Gaila looks to Uhura, "You should start to learn a language that no one else can speak, or not really. Like Orion."

"Many people speak Orion."

"Okay, take your pick. Maybe one not in the Federation. It would make it harder to find books and texts, but maybe you could actually _write the book_, as Humans say, about it and then you'd be out of the grunt work wouldn't you?"

She looks to her roommate. She considers the strong point and then nods. "Can we change the subject? So… who is on the list this semester?"

"I don't know…," Gaila hums which slowly turns into a small laugh. "I have to reassess my options. I was going to do Dru - might still if he doesn't talk the whole time. But only if I'm really bored. I will assess the talent and get back to you by the weeks end." Gaila nods, her mind made up.

"What are you aiming for?" she asks.

"Fifteen."

"There's thirteen weeks in a semester - that's more than one a week."

"Weekends count - I could double up some weekends," Gaila considers, mockingly counting on her fingers.

"I just don't know if you can manage it," Uhura laughs. "So much time and effort you dedicate to your sexual exploration."

Gaila squeaks a protest. "I'll do it with some spare for you, Nyota Uhura!" she says. "Don't think I won't give the friends to you. Oh, I will say, I have a really hot roommate back in the dorm… tall, skin like chocolate, beautiful… sometimes we make out a little… put on a show. Bring yourself, and someone for her."

"We have never, ever done that," Uhura replies.

"I have once but you weren't home," Gaila admits. "I had to handle it all myself. They were really cute too. Ugh, _best_ night."

There is a chime from Uhura's PADD as all of her class timetables are published live onto the feed in preparation for the following morning's classes. Gaila leans over, into the window to her room and grabs for hers also. Surprisingly, Uhura's classes follow the same pattern - two classes at the start of the week and two at the end of the week. Her Wednesdays are completely and utterly free.

"I have a whole free day on Wednesday...," Uhura frowns, refreshing the feed to make sure it is correct. It comes back exactly the same.

"Ugh, lucky," Gaila growls. "I have a fucking Saturday class - what the actual fuck!" she tosses her PADD back into her room and finishes her ice-cream.

"I'm gonna go have a shower," Uhura says and finishes her ice-cream.

The light on the washbasin flickers a little and Uhura makes sure she is quick - management have promised to attend to the bad circuitry throughout their apartment, but that was at the start of the year. Tomorrow, Uhura will give them a personal visit, she promises as she negotiates the room in dim light.

Uhura flops down onto her plush bed and flicks through the PADD schedules - she has been given a very good timetable, she must admit. No Saturday classes, a Wednesday conveniently free for homework and then study and maybe some social events. She could meet with the Commander in his office tomorrow afternoon to discuss… whatever it was he wanted to discuss with her, and spend most of Wednesday, Saturday and Sunday studying.

Curiously, she flicks through the internship page on the cadet portal - perhaps there is something there which she could do to for some extra-credit this semester? She wonders of the Commander's invitation. If it's only usually for third and fourth year cadets, then why ask her to submit? Would she be disappointed if he considered her application not as strong as others? Yes, but not surprised. A little humiliated? Maybe.

There are a number of off-shore internships being advertised on the portal page, all beginning at the start of the New Year. Off-shore internships are reserved for third and fourth years, and even then it is difficult to be accepted into one. It is not uncommon to have graduated by the end of the application process and put-off assignment to complete an internship. As she scrolls through the opportunities, she knows she will apply to each and every one of them.

And then she sees it. The advertisement, sitting demurely between a desire for an apprentice engineer volunteer and a weekly announcement for the Choir:

_12 June._

_An opportunity arises in the Xenolinguistics department in the form of a teacher's assistant. This will be a semester-long, paid position out of class hours. Details and full job description can be found below. Please forward your student details and essay to this address - _

She reads over the position requirements and is confident she is qualified to apply for the role. Uhura nibbles on her stylus. Does it mean anything that the Commander has asked her to submit an application himself? Does it really give her a better chance than other applicants? Or had he just been trying to make polite conversation or a possible icebreaker? That does make sense, he does seem to have some awkwardness in engaging in conversation outside of the classroom, Uhura considers, and he isn't known exactly for a shining example in politeness.

She would speak with him about it tomorrow, she resolves. For now, she has her first class to prep for and then a shower to take. Across the hall she can hear Gaila giggling almost madly - no doubt she had found her first candidate for the semester and then hears her tapping on her COMM. Uhura grins and rolls off the bed, grabbing her towel on the way out of her room.

It is sure to be an interesting semester, she thinks.

The lamp hangs precariously close to the wash basin in the sink. She needs to get that thing fixed.

* * *

><p>So, if you guys haven't noticed, I've changed the whole tense of this story from past to present. It was just a personal preference thing, around 30K in I thought, this reads and writes so much better as a present tense piece. So I changed it. That means a lot of edits on my behalf and a lot of work to be done. However, I have completed A Day on the Planet already, so updates will be considerably quick and constant. ~ A.D. 312/2014

Please take the time to leave a review before you go! They help me out so much and only take 30 seconds!

~ Arlia'Devi


	2. Chapter 2

**Chapter Two:**

She doesn't get to his office on Monday. She stays back and tries to clarify exactly what the question is which has accompanied the 1,000 word response and ten-percent of her mark due next Monday. How could Professor Sprig assign such heavy work on the first day? She'll be up to her neck in assessment tasks before she knows it - adding on a assistantship, there is really no way at all.

She doesn't make to his office on Tuesday either. Instead, she decides to complete Professor Sprig's task a little under a week before it is due and spends the afternoon and evening in the library, her nose once again in the books. Gaila says she's playing hard to get, but Uhura doesn't want to get anything but good grades and a place on the _Enterprise_.

On Wednesday, her only free day, she decides go and see exactly he needs to speak with her so urgently about. She wakes at eight - a sleep-in where Starfleet is concerned - and begins running the track around the basketball courts and then takes to the swimming pool for five laps. It is nine-thirty by the time she pulls on her cadet uniform and sit down with her novel - only fifty pages she will read this time she promises herself. It's the second last in a series she was very much enjoying - _Practical Uses for Xenolinguistics, from Professional to Personal._ It's not Starfleet compulsory and it's not academic by any means, but it's a book in her field of study and she should read it, if not to have said she's read it.

Uhura closes her book after seventy-five pages of the most polite way to ask an individual in Trill how to best split the cheque from dinner and looks at the time - 12:30pm. What is she supposed to do with all this time now really? Perhaps she shouldn't have finished off Sprig's assessment so swiftly.

Padding over to the small kitchenette, she makes a small bowl of noodles and grabs her COMM off the table, penning a letter to her brother, Kalem. Out in deep space, she hasn't seen her Kalem for over a year and a half - she's only spoken to him regularly due to the bad conditions for telecommunication so far out in space and it is often easier to pen letters back and forth when he is back in Federation sectors. Her older sister by only one year, Maleka, however, is another story.

She sneds off the extensive letter along with a few photos of her time in Africa with the family to Kalem's address before pulling on her dark Starfleet-commissioned boots and throwing a few books into her backpack. She picks up her PADD and begins clearing the screens of textbooks and website journals that have accumulated on it. The last page stares at her. Spock's advert.

She huffs. When the semester really started, would she really have time for this? That was, of course, assuming she got it. Uhura prided herself on being the best, but that did not mean she was immodest.

And then, Uhura looks at the room around her - perfectly made bed, exquisitely clean, the only indicator of any sort of habitation was her empty noodle bowl and the dog-ended book she's thrown back up on the bookshelf.

It was only 01300. She didn't need to leave until 1430, at the latest. He had mentioned it to her; it would be rude not to apply right? Still, it was always his decision who he took on…. Of course it would be a great opportunity; she would be foolish not to apply…

Wouldn't she?

Swinging her bag over her shoulder and grabbing her key card on the way out of the apartment, she avoids any conversation in the hall when she sees Kirk talking with his friend, the considerably-older-than-other-cadets-but-still-lovely Dr. Leonard McCoy. She avoids eye contact but Kirk notices her anyway and begins to approach. She hits the button for the lift again but by that time, he's by her side.

"And where are we off to today?" he says.

"None of your business."

"And listen, while I'm at it, I'm sorry for beating you in Interstellar Navigation last semester. I mean, I didn't really try."

Uhura grits her teeth. She'd studied her eyes out for that exam and to come off with only a lower mark distinction was so disheartening.

"And you know, I know that award should have really been yours," he laughs. "I mean, and to say, I'm doing second year subjects after only being at the academy eight months. Who would'a thought?"

The lift opens and she and Kirk step on.

"I have somewhere to be," Uhura replies, her eyes not wavering from infront of her.

"Are you ever going to tell me your name? And listen if you want, we can totally get together for a study lesson one day," he suggests. "If I guess it right, you'll tell me won't you?"

"You will never guess my name," she says.

"I really think I will."

"I assure you, you won't."

"So is it a hard name? Will you tell me what it starts with?"

"No."

Kirk thinks over this. "Can I assign a name to you, then?"

She turns her head sharply as he begins to say, "C-

"If it's a derogatory reference to female anatomy, my attitude, my personality or my ethnicity, you can consider yourself a dead man, James Kirk," she snarls.

"Claire."

"Claire?" she spits.

He nods and grins. "That's your name right? Oh, no no, Clara. I really like Clara for you."

"My name is not Clara," she replies.

"One day, when I'm Captain of the _Enterprise_-,"

She laughs, almost a little too loudly then, "You? _Captain of the Enterprise_? Only the new flagship-,"

"Only the thing every single Starfleet officer is trying to get on, yes," he replies with a firm nod. "And don't worry, I'll put in a name for you? What do you think, Clara, a future by my side as Communications Officer on the Bridge?"

"I would rather be translating Desmonian into a phonetic language until my last breath than work on the Bridge with you," she replies.

"Sounds hot," he chrips. The turbolift opens and Uhura stalks out. Kirk laughs and hits the button to go back up.

"Nice chatting with you, Uhura, see you soon!"

"Go to hell, Kirk!" she seethes back.

The walk between Commander Spock's office and the cadet dormitories calms Uhura down significantly. Commander Spock's office is on on the fifth level of the Xenolinguistics hall - just above the lecture auditorium in which he had conducted his class she had attended last semester. She takes the elevator up with another Professor whom she acknowledges politely and smiles briefly. The building is predominantly glass and cold chrome but Commander Spock's office has replaced most of the chrome lining and design work with very functional and aesthetically pleasing heavy wooden bookcases lined with textbooks. She has considered his office last semester perhaps a better resource than the library, but of course, she cannot simply browse his professional collection as she does at the library. She has often asked if he possessed text books that are expensive and considered alternative sources by the library staff and academic selection committee. Most often, he did possess the books and either allowed her to take the articles or books back to her dorm for a period of time, or allowed her to browse the pages in his office.

She presses the small button by the door and states her name. A moment passes and there is a soft clearing sound followed by the door unlatching. She enters quietly.

Commander Spock's office views the quadrangle and she can see her dormitory building from his office and where they play ball on the basketball court. His desk is facing towards the large window, but far enough away that it simply enjoys the sunlight and is not distracted by any drills, games or happenings that were occurring on ground. There is a simple grey lounge closer to the window against the wall in which one could read and watch what is happening in the quad. The entire far wall is covered in text books and the wall behind his desk is devoted entirely for filing. Behind the grey couch is a large print of Monet's _Waterlillies_.

Commander Spock, now, sits at his desk. It is impossible to think of his presence as anything but almost regal. He sits up straight, his hands on either side of a paper and when she approaches he stands, walks three large steps forward and greets her. He does not shake her hand and she does not go to extend it, as she would a human man. His Interspecies Ethics classes have paid off, she realises.

"Good afternoon, Cadet," he says instead, coolly and completely in the one tone, she recognises. Humans displayed a varying of pitches and tones in their verbal communication, she has never met anyone who speaks as monotonously as he does. She does not find she minds it.

"Good afternoon, sir, I hope I have not come at a bad time."

He does not reply to this statement, she realises he must believe it is rhetorical. He ushers her to a chair, and she sits before he returns to his desk.

He adjusts a stack of papers on his table, swipes some document tabs closed on his PADD and brings up what seems to be her academic record.

"You placed first in both of my classes last semester, Cadet Uhura," he notes. "Very well done."

"I did not know that," she replies. "But I am glad that you found my work of satisfying quality. I have to admit, I found your classes considerably… challenging. However, your readiness to speak to me about issues and assessment tasks made it a lot easier."

"Have you considered applying for off-shore internships for your third year?" he asks.

"I have considered. But I have not begun to apply for any yet. They are difficult to get so early in third-year."

"You may contact me for a written recommendation for your application, if you wish," he replies. "It would further your chances."

"That is gracious of you, Commander," she says, honestly she is just so honeslty surprised. Was this really the _pointy-eared bastard? _Well, only half of that description applied regarding the insult. He is considerably pleasant. Uhura smiles. "Thank you."

"However, this is not what I intended to speak to you about," he cuts her off shortly, his fingers running swiftly against his PADD. "You were the first ranked cadet in both of my classes"

He shifts in his seat a little then. Uhura attempts to keep her expression neutral and somewhat pleasant as he does but she is sure her eyes or the twitching of her eyebrows betray her.

"I have never heard you converse in Vulcan, Cadet." The tone in his voice is a little curious, she notices, the end syllable of his sentence finishes a little higher than usual. "Though you completed the entire course in first year."

"_I admit I have not had tremendous practice speaking to Vulcan natives, but I have taken many classes. It is moderate. I am in no way fluent," _she says, making sure she speaks with the correct pronouncination and syllable emphasis - and again, makes sure her tone is very even and low.

"Adequate."

"Thank you, sir. May I ask, though, exactly why you have asked me here today?" she pressses. The Commander brings up a page.

"Several months ago," he begins, "I was approached by Captain Pike on behalf of the Starfleet Xenolinguistics department to attend an Interstellar Xenolinguistics Conference in New York City as a representative of Starfleet. He was also attending until his daughter recently gave birth, and so, he has suggested that I ask a Cadet who I believe has the most academic and linguistic potential to attend the Conference in his place. This cadet, as first ranked in my classes, was you, Cadet Uhura. The conference will occur over mid-semester break and it is scheduled that we will be in New York City for three days. All expenses will be paid for by Starfleet."

Uhura stares at Spock for a moment. His eyes are large, dark and very serious. His mouth is a now just long thin line and his hands hold out the PADD and the details of the trip towards her. She takes it.

"You are serious," she says eventually, scrolling through the invitation. It's fancy, it's in New York, it's one hell of an opportunity.

"One hundred percent. Please do not ask me that question again, though humans have a penchant for using it as a statement. Which was the case for you?"

She pauses and takes a breath.

"This is a large honour, Commander, but-," she hesitated.

His ears twitch a little but his face remained still. Uhura finds herself fascinated as they move slightly, seemingly without Spock realising. She's never seen such a thing before.

"What is your opposition?"

She fidgets a little and hands back the PADD.

"It's just that… I really appreciate the invite, but I am just worried. It's such a formal event, and I'd be represented Starfleet, I don't know if I could do it. And I'm only in second year - you have other fourth and third year students that would be eligible for an opportunity," she explained. "I am nervous, if you understand the phrase, stepping on people's toes in a career in which I may be relying on these colleagues for aid in the future."

"I cannot convince you of your own capabilities," Commander Spock replies. "However, I do consider my assessment of you correct. That I am not uncertain about."

"I appreciate that, Commander," she say. "Can I think this over, when can I inform you of my answer?"

The Commander looks at her, perplexed. His right eyebrow is a little higher than the other, Uhura notes. "I believed I would receive an answer before you left my office, Cadet. However, if you must think it over, the close of business tomorrow is acceptable. After that time, I will be asking another cadet - the second highest ranking cadet, which was, I believe, Cadet Tiffany DeLeu."

Cadet Tiffany DeLeu, she realises. Tiffany is a second-year cadet from London… She is tall, attractive, with a short crop of soft brown hair and is completely and irrevocably infuriating. She is constantly competing with Uhura in tests, exams and social situations, like Kirk, in a sense, but she knows how to put Kirk back in his place - considering, Kirk and Tiffany may have been perfect for each _- no no no!_ She thinks. _No_!

No doubt, Tiffany would jump at such an opportunity to attend such a large convention, and no doubt would she rub it in Uhura's face whatever chance she got.

"I'll do it, sir," she says. "I think it will be a good opportunity for me."

"I agree," he nods. "I will inform the Captain of your decision and be in contact with the details by the end of the week."

Uhura smiles, "That is fine. Is there anything you would like to speak to me about?"

"Have you considered submitting an application for the teaching assistant position?" he brings it up now. .

"Is conversation this professional or informal?" she questions warily.

Commander Spock considers this a moment before it seems, he settles on an appropriate answer.

"Both."

"I have considered submitting an application."

"I see. The deadline is two days from now, cadet."

"I am aware." She looks at her Commander then, who is shuffling papers on his desk. "What will happen if I do not submit an application?"

"You will eliminate your chances for the position by one-hundred-percent," he informs her with a sharp quip. She grins and stifles a laugh.

"What would be the percentage if I did submit?" she is pushing her luck now, but she can't help it.

"Cadet, that is classified information."

He looks at her. She thinks he might have come close to what she considers a Vulcan grin but in reality his left lip only twitches a fraction of a centimetre upward before he says,

"Cadet, I believe that will be all. Have a pleasant evening."

Uhura gets up out of her chair and nods. "You too, Commander. I look forward to working with you."

"As do I."

"On the Starfleet thing, though," she stutters suddenly, realising her mistake. "Not the assistantship-,"

"I know what you meant, Cadet," he replies, not looking up from his work.

"Ah. Great. Okay. See you later, sir. Commander."

"Goodbye Cadet Uhura."

She leaves Commander Spock's office and quickly makes her way to the mess hall. It is 18:06 and Gaila is lining up to receive her dinner. She ushers Uhura over to stand next to her and offers a dinner tray.

"You just left the Commander's office?" she asks lowly.

"Yes."

They gather their food - a vegetarian risotto and an orange juice for Gaila and Uhura takes a small spoonful of rice and a hearty beef stew and a can of lemonade. They find a small bench near the entrance to the mess hall and sit down. Gaila's COMM flashes with a message but the Orion only glances at it.

"And what was the big thing he wanted to speak to you about?" Gaila asks instead as she sips on her orange juice.

Uhura sighs a little and run her fork around her stew.

"Well," she begins. "Pretty much… he well, he sat there and just asked me-,"

"What, what, what?" Gaila begs.

"If you'd stop interrupting me," she teases gently and chews the replicated beef. It's tasteless and a little chewy. "Anyway, apparently, not only was he impressed by my academic record last semester-,"

"He said that?" screeches Gaila. "He actually said those words?"

"Well," hums Uhura. "I am paraphrasing."

"Of course you are," she rolls her eyes.

"Anyway, so he said he was impressed and that during mid-semester break, he was scheduled to attend an Interstellar Xenolinguistics Conference with Captain Pike and the Captain pulled out, so he suggested for Commander Spock to bring along a cadet. He chose me."

"Really?" Gaila cries. "Wow, that's amazing! So he asked you because he liked your academic record or your_… academic record_?" she shimmies her shoulders a little and grins.

"None of that," Uhura shakes her fork at her.

"And did you accept?"

"I had to think about it. But yes. Nervously, I accepted."

"Where is this coveted conference then? What is there to think about?" she grins and then looks Nyota up and down. "And do you get to wear…. Something sexy?"

"We get to wear standard Starfleet uniforms, I am assuming," Uhura replies. "And the conference is in New York City. We'll be there for three days, apparently."

"Three whole days with the Commander?"

"I guess, yeah," she replies.

"Wow. I. Am. Offically. Jealous," Gaila laughs. "What are you going to do? Are you going to share a room? Do you get time off? Do you think you will spend it with him? What about the flight over there?"

"I don't know," Uhura says. "He said he would email me details about the conference by the end of the week."

"So we wait?" Gaila giggles, polishing off her dinner.

Uhura shrugs over hers. "I guess we do."

* * *

><p>Edited updated and revised: 312/2014

Please leave a review before you go!

~ Arlia'Devi


	3. Chapter 3

**Chapter Three:**

It is Friday morning and Nyota Uhura on her way to her Interspecies Protocol class when she runs into Captain Pike in the hallway. He is a broad but short man in his late 50s with a warm face, the kind of person that didn't have wrinkles more than smile lines. Uhura has often heard him talking with Commander Spock and she wonders for a moment if they are good friends, she has never seen them out of work together, so perhaps it is just a professional relationship.

She is surprised to say in the least when the Captain pulls her aside as she exits her tute at 1110.

"Cadet Uhura," he greets.

"Captain Pike," she nods, clutching her books to her stomach. "Nice to see you, sir, what can I help you with?" Other students shuffle past, chatting noisily so Captain Pike takes use of a free and unoccupied office space, closing the door behind them.

"You have agreed to attend the Xenolinguistics Conference with Commander Spock, am I wrong?"

"I have," she nods, and then adds, "I'm very excited. Thank you for both thinking of me for the opportunity."

"You will do well, cadet. It is a great opportunity," he says.

"It is a shame you couldn't go."

"I didn't _want_ to go," he clarifies, resting up against the desk. "I've been to so many conferences, so many meetings, they're all the same, and Commander Spock suggested that instead of my attendance, we should invite a cadet to accompany the Commander on my behalf. It is certainly a better way. You have much to get out of the conference than I do, certainly."

The story doesn't match with the one Spock had told her, Uhura realises, but she replies, "I am nervous representing Starfleet, but your confidence in my abilities makes me feel a little better, thank you Captain."

"You're welcome, Cadet," nods Pike, gesturing to shake her hand. "We will speak soon."

She shakes his hand. He has a tight grip. Then, he leaves the office and Uhura begins to make her way to her next class.

The sparsely populated library is a good place to spend a few hours uninterrupted. There are several small offices that professors allowed their students to study, a small cafeteria where she purchases a coffee and sits down at a desk and turns on her COMM. Her notes are splayed out in front of her, colour coded and highlighted, all in their own folders and she has printed out several small journal articles which will be of use later in the semester and filed them accordingly.

The documents that support her application for the Xenolinguistics teaching assistant position flash up on the screen. She sighs and reaches for her stylus. There are three and a half hours until the application deadline closes and she's still no closer to a decision. She flicks through the documents, reading through them briefly when a message pops up onto her screen.

It's Commander Spock.

_To: Cadet, N. Uhura, _

_From: Commander, Spock._

_Details for the Interstellar Xenolinguistics Conference are available below._

_Time and date: 7pm sharp, Friday, 14th August._

_Location: New York Palace, Villard Ballroom._

_We will be leaving for New York on Thursday the 13th, and anticipate to arrive back at Starfleet on Saturday 15th in the evening. I have made an arrangement to organise flights and Starfleet uniforms tomorrow at 14:30. If this is not suitable, inform me of a time that is._

_Regards,_

_Commander Spock._

Uhura quickly types back a message.

_Commander Spock,_

_14:30 tomorrow is acceptable. I will see you then._

_Best,_

_Cadet Uhura._

Bringing back up the documents, Uhura nibbles on her fingers. Is she taking on a crazy workload in thinking about pursuing this opportunity? Maybe. But what is she if she isn't determined? If she doesn't push herself to the very edge and then a little bit more?

She forwards her application documents to the address and turns off her COMM, throwing it down in front of her and vaguely wondering what she has done. She sighs and slumps back in her chair. It is Friday afternoon and she has finished her classes and her week's work. Maybe Gaila would want to get a drink tonight.

Resolved, she walks back to her dorm. She sees Capitan Pike again, speaking to a female professor she was not acquainted with. Stephen from Engineering greets her briefly as they intersect near the alumni gardens and they both make false promises to catch up over a coffee or a drink, plans that would never come into fruition with their busy schedules but makes the other feel like they are not forgotten.

Gaila is still in class when she arrives back at the apartment. Uhura decides to go for a run. It is a warm summer's day and the swimming pool is packed. Two laps around the oval and she is sweating, her grey shirt sticking in all the wrong places and her brow soaked. A cold shower is refreshing and by the time she has dried her hair, Gaila has come back to the room.

"Want to go for a drink tonight?" asks Uhura, towelling her hair and stepping out of the small bathroom in her underwear.

"Would, but I have just been hammered with group work, all due this week. Some fucking bright ass kid volunteered our group for the next week's presentations. Apparently it's better to get them out the way. What a fucker!" Gaila seethes, falling on her bed. "Stay here and help me with my assignment."

"I have no idea about IT, Gaila, I'm sorry," she laughs. "I can barely find the updates for my COMM on the system."

"You're so useless," Gaila huffs. "Not as useless as these idiots in my class, though. They are IT students, they should know better."

"You really can't come out?" whines Uhura. "I am finally free and I feel like going out - come on, Gaila."

"I know, you're so keen to go out it's awesome," Gaila replies, her head in a text document full of code. "Listen, if I can get my work done by eight o'clock, I'll go out with you. I don't have too much to do and I don't think it's too complicated. Where do you want to go? Campus bar?"

"Laundry," Uhura nods.

"_Laundry_?" Gaila squeaks. "That's Uptown. Like, we might as well party on Mars let alone go to Laundry. It's really not that good please, Nyota _whyyy_…""

"It's the best and we haven't been there in so long," Uhura replies. "We had so much fun last time."

"You hooked up with that police man," huffs Gaila. "I got cut off by the bar and kicked out and it was only 1am - who does that?!"

"Please, Gaila… please!"

"Okay, okay," Gaila gives in. "Laundry it is. But only if you let me get this work done. Go do your makeup or something. Pick something out to wear."

"Oh yes!" Uhura celebrates. "What should I wear?"

"I surprisingly don't care. Let me work."

Uhura nods and takes to her wardrobe. It is heavily populated by Starfleet uniforms, three pairs of commissioned boots, some shirts, Starfleet jumpers, and very few dresses. She had purchased an orange dress back in Africa when she had visited her family for a night out with her elder sister. She pulls out the figure hugging dress. It is strapless but has cuffs wrapping around her upper arm and shows off her neckline and strong collarbone. She pulls on her silver necklace, a gift she'd received at 21 from her parents - a small Tiffany's heart with a silver key. The key to her future, the key to her heart, she isn't too sure, but it is such a simple elegant piece that she's usually not allowed to wear at Starfleet.

In Gaila's bedroom she hears the sounds of computer programmes and her roommate's fingers glide across the keypad as she works. Uhura slips into the bathroom and brushes her hair into the high ponytail. She applies her foundation, dotting it on a pimple that was plaguing her left temple and just wouldn't seem to quit before setting it with a pressed powder. She applies gel eye-liner and mascara and then a nude lip plumper before beginning to contour her cheekbones and jawline.

She meanders out of the bathroom with a face ready for a long night and sees Gaila slipping on a little black dress and shoes.

"I thought you were working," Uhura says, grabbing her own black heels.

"Fuck them," Gaila says. "I've done my work - they can do the rest. I fucking hate group assignments. Hey, let's go to that African restaurant uptown you always tell me about. Isn't that near laundry?"

"Yeah, that sounds great," Uhura grins.

"Just let me freshen up. Grab your bag," she says and steals Uhura's gel eyeliner, applying it quickly in the mirror. "The only thing I hate about living on Earth, this is serious, Nyota, is that it's like a bazillion dollars to buy Orion cosmetics here. Green foundation on this planet is literally face paint."

"You have great skin, Gaila," Uhura says, packing her clutch purse with all the essentials. "But yeah that would be really annoying."

"So," says Gaila, leaning against the doorframe. "Are we celebrating anything in particular now, Nyota? Perhaps… a new job opportunity?"

"If you're asking if I applied as a teacher's aide, I did. If I got the job, I'm not exactly sure. Do I need a reason to celebrate?"

Gaila shrugs, "I don't know, do you, Nyota?"

"Don't," she pushes her friend's shoulder. "Stop it. Let's go. Out the door now."

"What?" Gaila grabs her bag and applied a little lipstick. "What am I doing?"

"Teasing me," Uhura replies.

"I am doing no such thing."

"Of course you aren't."

"I would never dream of teasing you."

"No, you wouldn't."

"Okay, if you're not excited for all the new time you're going to be spending with the Commander then I will for you," Gaila says as they walked down the dormitory hall.

"Gaila, someone could hear you!"

"I mean, he complimented you!" she continues, paying no attention to the volume of her voice. "And that isn't something to be taken lightly, you know, from a Vulcan and all."

"On my academic results."

Gaila grins as the lift opens for them. "I bet that is foreplay for Vulcans. Oh Cadet Uhura, you really impressed me with your latest results, would you like to go out for dinner. What are Vulcan dating methods, even, you should ask him that."

Uhura shakes her head as they step out onto the campus. It is early evening, still bright and still hot. They receive a few cat calls as they walk across the basketball court towards the gate and bus depot. A few Orion swear words deter the obnoxious males from any further comment. The bus arrives four minutes later, and they board for uptown San Francisco.

"So would you though?" Gaila asks, taking her seat.

"Can we stop talking about this?" Uhura asks. "Can we talk about any guys you're interested in?"

"So you ARE interested in him?" Gaila laughs. "You are too easy, Nyota."

She looks around the semi-packed bus in mortification. "Can you not call me easy in such a public place," she seethes. "And I am not easy."

"Of course, you sure made Stephen work for it."

"I saw Stephen today, actually, in the gardens."

"How's he looking?" Gaila giggles. "Ugh, he was such a sweet guy. A total pushover and a dweeb, but such a sweet guy."

"He's fine, I guess. We said we would meet up for coffee, but it never happened. It will never happen. We say that to like placate each other really, from this weird guilt we have."

"And it should never happen," Gaila informs her. "That guy wasn't right for you. He did everything you wanted. He worshipped the ground you walked on. He didn't have any sort of backbone. And you said the sex wasn't even that good. You were miserable."

Uhura hums, "You're right. If I ever think of getting back with him, please do a public service and stop me."

"Anyway I find necessary," Gaila agrees. "But you know who is super cute, and I know you're going to say no because…"

"Why?"

"Because he's friends with Kirk."

"Ugh, no. Kirk," Uhura rolls her eyes. "I don't want to ruin my evening thinking about him."

"Why do you not like him, anyway?" Gaila asks. "What did he ever do to you?"

The bus pulls up at the Uptown stop and Uhura climbs off, tugging on Gaila behind her. She thanks the bus driver as he drives off.

* * *

><p>Laundry is a popular bar among young twenty-somethings. It is dark, smelt mostly of stale beer and the floor was always sticky. But it plays good music, the drinks are always cheap and the guys are usually always attractive. The only problem is that the club is a long way from Starfleet and so sneaking people in for hook-ups is almost out of the question - and considering when the security around Starfleet patrolled on Friday and Saturday nights is almost impenetrable.<p>

She doesn't know where Gaila is. Somewhere between her second flaming waterfall and a trip to the bathroom, she has lost her friend amongst the crowd, the pounding music and the cloudiness of her own mind. Then, around half an hour later she finds her Orion friend vomiting under a tree in the beer garden with security pushing her around.

"Hey!" Uhura cries, pushing the security away from her friend. "Hey, leave her alone!"

"We've been given permission to escort her off the premises. She's been locked off the bar and started a fight with our staff. Are you her friend?"

"Yeah," Uhura huffs, "Here, I'll help her. It's okay, She's not usually like this. I'll get her to bed."

The security guards look her up and down before deciding it isn't worth the argument and backing away. Gaila wipes her mouth on the back of her hand and smiles.

"Nyotaa!" Gaila grins, struggling to get to her feet.

"Come on, we're going to another club, this place is lame." She helps her friend to her feet and begins to guide her out of the club and out onto the cool street. Gaila stumbles on the steps and Uhura catches her.

"What happened to you, Gaila?" Uhura asks, trying to wave down a cab. "You've had just as much to drink as me, and I know how you are."

"I think someone slipped something into my drink…," Gaila mutters. A cab pulls up by their sides and the security guard opens the door for the two ladies. "I know you're really keen to go to another club, but could we just go home?"

"Sure," Uhura grins. Semi-intoxicated, she always gets her way.

"I'm not going to do my laundry again," Gaila mutters miserably. "I told you that place is the worst.

"Starfleet Campus, please," Uhura says to the cab driver, handing him a 20 dollar bill.

"Make sure you let me know if your friend is unwell," warns the driver, looking back into his rearvision mirror at the Orion slumped over Uhura's shoulder. "I don't want her to make a mess. And buckle up."

"She won't I promise."

When they get back to Starfleet, it is fifteen minutes before the 1am lockout implemented by the security. She flashes their IDs and are allowed entrance. Gaila leans over in a bin in the gardens to vomit and then washes her face in the large fountain. She pants and rested against the cool stone as Uhura comes to sit with her.

"You are a much better student than me," Gaila admits.

"Maybe Dr. McCoy should have a look at you if you think your drink was spiked, honey," Uhura says, patting her friend's hair back.

"No, I should be okay," Gaila sighed. "I've taken way worse drugs than this. Thanks, Ny. I'm so lucky I knew how to manipulate the system to make you my roommate."

Uhura laughs and hoists her friend back to her feet, swiping their way into the dormitory halls.

"You and me both, Gai," she agrees, struggling to get her friend into the turbolift. Gaila lurches forward with an exclamation of, "I want to press the buttons!" and slumps to press almost all the buttons down the pad. Uhura huffs and leans forward to actually press their correct buttons, hoping that the starting and stopping motions of their turbolift ride wouldn't have any consequences.

It does.

In the rubbish chute on Kirk's floor.

* * *

><p>She is five minutes late to her meeting with the Commander and hopes that he does not hold it against her. Vulcans, she knows, are rarely late. She stumbles through the door, not at all composed and jabbering apologies for being late.<p>

"Commander," she nods. "I apologise for being late. I know you do not tolerate it."

"We are not in school hours, so there is some leniency," he replies. "May I asked what kept you?"

"My roommate and I went out last night and I think someone spiked her drink. She's been sick all morning. I notified the first aide office when she wasn't better by midday," she explained, sitting down and then realising she had not been invited to sit.

"You seem fine."

"Yes. She disappeared for a while," she grimaces a little. "When I found her, I had to escort her home."

"I hope the Cadet a speedy recovery," he replies, grabbing his COMM from across the table. "I will make this brief, then, if you would like to get back to her."

"The nurse is staying with her, I believe," Uhura says, "I do not mind, Commander. I am very excited, I spoke with Captain Pike and I was thankful for his confidence in my abilities to represent Starfleet."

"Ah, yes," he nods and then gets down to business. "Do you have any objections on the dates we are scheduled to leave?"

"None that I know of."

"I assume if anything arises, you will inform me." He makes a few notes on his COMM with his stylus. "Dietary requirements?"

"None."

"Dietary preferences?"

She breaks into a smile, "Can we avoid fish?"

"Of course."

He doesn't say anything for a moment and then he hands the COMM to Uhura.

"Please put in your details here for the airline ticket. Starfleet will be purchasing them on our behalves and you will receive yours on your COMM," he explains. Uhura adds in her details. "Do you have a ceremonial uniform, cadet?"

"No," Uhura replies, handing back the COMM to the Commander.

"What is your uniform size?"

"10."

"I will organise one, but you will still have to be fitted to ensure a suitability," he explains, looking over Uhura's details. "I hope it is not unbecoming to ask, but from what language does your first name belong?"

"My first name?" she repeats. "Oh, it's KiSwahili. It means 'star'."

He nods. "That is considerably fitting. It is a pleasing name linguistically."

"May I counter with a similarly personal question?" she asks.

"Indeed."

"Do you have a last name? Is your title simply Commander Spock?"

"My full name is not pronounceable by the majority of humans," he replies. "So it is easiest to be referred simply as my given name. Sch'n T'gai is my family's house name, as we do not have last names in ways humans do. However, you may know that my mother's last name is Grayson, so it would be fitting to be associated with her last name as it is pronounceable to humans - however Spock suits most situations adequately."

She nods, "Culturally, that is very interesting."

"You believe so?"

"Of course," she says.

There is a pause for a moment and Uhura is about to excuse herself when Spock speaks once again.

"You have submitted an application for the position of my aide," he states.

"Yes," she says. "It would be a great opportunity for me, however, I worry for the workload and balancing my other classes. Perhaps it is something we may discuss if I am invited for an interview."

"We may discuss it now."

She pauses, "is this an interview?"

"It is a conversation," he replies. Uhura detected a certain teasing in his normally neutral tone. "However, the position is not designed to impact your studies, but enhance them. I will be at full disposal to look over any assignments or tasks as both your employer and professor."

"That would be advantageous," she consider. "I did submit an application yes, I hope you do consider me a suitable applicant for the position."

"You're an impressive candidate; however, I should consider and assess all applications before I made a decision. You will hear by Wednesday."

She nods and tries to calm her beating heart. It is thundering through her ears and she realise her hands are shaking in her lap.

"Is there anything else you wish to speak with me about, Commander?"

"That will be all, Cadet," he assures. "Send my well wishes to Cadet Gaila."

"I will, thank you, Commander."

He nods and Uhura excuses herself from the office.

Gaila is better by that night. Someone had spiked her drink, but it had just made her violently ill since the drug had been intended for humans, the nurse informed her. Uhura promises Gaila they would never go to laundry again and the woman smiles weakly from her bed.

On Wednesday at 15:01 she receives a message from Commander Spock informing her she is the most suitable candidate. Her and Gaila open the alcohol from South America and drink in celebration.

"To new partnerships," toasts Gaila.

"To professionalism," she toasts back and Gaila laughs.

* * *

><p>It is a Friday afternoon two weeks later at 16:14 she receives another message from Commander Spock. It informs her to meet him in his office at the most suitable time before six. She closes her book in the library, throws her backpack over her shoulder and makes her way across campus - while she doesn't want him to assume she is at his beck-and-call, she has no reason to be rude and ignore his wish. When she arrives at Commander Spock's office, however, he is already in a meeting with another professor. She loiters out the front, reading a notice board and waits until he has finished his meeting and the other professor leaves, offering Uhura a curt nod as she walks past. It is 17:26 by the time she was ushered into his office.<p>

"I apologise, cadet, I could not seem to leave that conversation politely," he admits. Uhura quirks a smile and wonders if the rumour about a Vulcan's inability to lie is really true, or if he just dislikes the professor.

"It's fine."

"Thank you for arriving so quickly, however - are you free most Friday afternoons?" he queries, picking up his COMM and a stylus.

"Usually if I get all my work done during the week," she says. "I also have Wednesdays off. We should organise the teaching schedule," she clears her throat. "I also realise this is the first time I've seen you since you offered me the position, so thank you Commander."

"You were the most qualified," he states simply as if all the things he had said before do not matter. Uhura frowns and takes a seat. "However, that is not what I wanted to speak to you about."

Uhura waits patiently.

"At the conference, there are many important guests scheduled to arrive. I had expected the Vulcan Ambassador there as someone other than myself you could possibly converse with," he explains. Uhura swallows - the Ambassador? He was one stern guy. Rigid, often speaks only when spoken too, one icy glare could strike even the friendliest of Starfleet personnel down. "However," continued Spock. "You may not know that the Ambassador is my father."

Uhura coughs and then immediately composes herself when Spock quirks an eyebrow and looks up from under it.

"I was not aware, Commander."

"I have not finished. My mother, Lady Amanda Grayson, is to accompany him," he replies. "She has made it quite clear that we are to go out for a meal with them the following morning. I believe she called it "brunch". She informs me she is quite fond of brunch," he explains. "When I informed her I was on professional business with a colleague as her superior, she politely invited you along, Cadet."

"How nice of her," Uhura says though not exactly knowing what to say. "I would be delighted to come if she so insists."

Spock looks at her squarely.

"I was afraid you were to say that, Cadet," he admits.

"You wanted me to say something else?" she asks, feeling her stomach drop a little. "You don't want to go?"

"Though it would be enjoyable to spend time with my mother, speaking with her at the conference will be enough. She will," he seems to look for the right word, "_Fuss_ over me."

"All mother's fuss," Uhura laughs. "That's what mother's do. Can you just say you do not wish to go?"

"She will be upset."

"That I do not wish to go?"

"That will be a lie," he counters.

"You've gotten yourself into a tight spot here, Commander," Uhura considers with a grin. "You really don't have many options than to partake in the culture of brunch."

"Does one still have lunch after consuming brunch, or does the consummation of a brunch cancel out both breakfast and lunch?" he considers.

"I am sure it will be fine," Uhura assures.

"A vague statement at best, Cadet. The phrase is linguistically useless."

"But somehow supporting," she counters. "And I'm quite sure that is an unsolvable question about brunch, Commander."

He taps on his COMM for a moment. "It will not bother you then," he replies, "If we go out for 'brunch' with my parents? I feel it is considerably unprofessional but my mother is excited to speak to someone who is both female and human."

"She is?" Uhura replies. "I hope I don't disappoint her."

"You will not," he says. "You are both very intelligent women. You will have many aspects of common interests and knowledge to discuss."

"Thank you, Commander," she says. "I am glad you think so highly of me. It will be an honour to meet the Ambassador and Lady Amanda."

"You are welcome Cadet. I expect to see you on Wednesday," he says. "Have a pleasant weekend."

She smiles. He does not return the gesture. She wonders if he'd ever smiles.

"You too, Commander. Thank you."

* * *

><p>Revised changed and edited - 312/2014

Please take the time to leave a review!

~ Arlia'Devi


	4. Chapter 4

**Chapter Four**

When on Wednesday, Uhura comes home with an armful of PADDs and dumps them on her desk, Gaila shakes her head. The PADDs scatter everywhere, fall off her desk and onto the floor and the Orion notices Uhura's shoulders slump at the mess and all the work that goes with it.

"That guy is insane," Gaila announces, "And you're insane for accepting all that paperwork. You are both insane. You're made to be insane together."

"Okay, so it's a lot of work," Uhura counters, beginning to pick up the PADDs that have fallen under her desk."But being the Commander's aide will really help me get an off-world internship next year. He has a lot of contacts on Vulcan and by going to the conference next month I'll be able to make some contacts on my own." She sucks a breath in. "So… for now, I just have to do all this work. And not sleep. Ever."

"What is it all anyway?"

"Papers he's graded. He would like me to look through them again and make sure he did not miss anything, which I'm really sure he didn't if I remember all the papers I got back from him," she scoffs, "they were pretty much murdered with red notes."

"Really? Proofreading?" Gaila blanches. "Die Hard is playing down in the common room."

"I hate that movie," Uhura complains.

"Yes. But guys love it. It's the best night to find guys."

"You go," she ushers. "I have to do this work."

Gaila huffs and pulled on a jumper, fluffing up her hair.

"Okay. Good luck with all that," she cringes a little as Uhura sat down and takes the first test off the pile and began to read over it. "Can I bring people back here? Can I bring you a friend?"

"All the friends I need are here," Uhura motions to the PADDs on her desk. "Go, watch the movie, have a good time."

"Okay, Ny. If you change your mind… you know where I am. Bye."

"Bye," Uhura waves her off pathetically. She picks up the first PADD and opens it and an essay marked in red by a THOMAS DELANGE comes up onto the screen. There is an abysmal mark (by her standards at least) in the top corner, a just pass, and Uhura thinks that maybe a beer or two would make this process a lot easier.

* * *

><p>The next morning, Uhura catches Commander Spock coming from his home to his office at 0713. She waiting by his door with a handful of PADDs and quickly gives them to him as he approaches still is putting his house keys into his bag. If his face can portray any kind of emotion, Uhura guesses it may have been shocked.<p>

"Cadet, those reports are not due until Monday."

"I have much work to do over the weekend, no doubt my professors will assign weekend assignments," she replies. "So I thought I would work on these while I had no other projects in progression. Therefore, here you are, Commander."

Commander Spock takes the PADDs, albeit a little awkwardly as the door opens to his office and the lights switch on.

"The turn-over rate is impressive, Cadet," he says and places them on his desk. "The students will be pleased to receive their marks back so quickly."

"They will not be pleased with the marks," she replies. "Some of them did not go very well. There were very common mistakes."

"Indeed," he admits. "Vulcan is not an easy language to learn off-planet. Many of the mistakes would not have occurred if the cadets were in a native Vulcan institute. It is typical of first year cadets however, they will improve."

"Perhaps they should not have been so ambitious," she says. "Perhaps they need a tutor."

"Your Vulcan is highly developed, enough to offer assistance for credit payment," he suggests. "Quomodocunquize."

"I have way too much on my plate for that," Uhura laughs. "Maybe next semester."

"I guess that is Terran language for you. Lots of strange expressions."

"So I have found."

"I'll see you on Friday, Commander."

He nods. "Have a pleasant day, Cadet."

"You too, sir."

Uhura leaves then. Spock looks at the tests. They are all graded and double checked on his desk, in alphabetical order to the last name of the student. He has one-hundred-and-twenty-seven students in his Introduction to Vulcan first year class. That assignment had been a considerably long quiz. She has turned them all over within thirteen-point-two hours and he does not doubt the quality of her work. Most impressive.

* * *

><p>Gaila is begging Uhura to come out of the small nest that had become her dorm room. There is a film playing in the common room, one she might actually like this time, and Gaila is determined to get Uhura out and about once again.<p>

"Come on, it's a love story."

"Don't care, this paper is due in on Monday," she says, furiously typing at her PADD.

"It's only Friday. The movie only goes for two hours. We go out, you relax, you come back and keep writing your paper. Have a break!"

"I'll afford a break to go to sleep, Gaila."

"There will be popcorn."

Uhura pauses.

"Buttered popcorn."

She looks over her shoulder to Gaila, "Replicated?"

"The Film group doshed out and got some real stuff, and their own popper. It's only two credits for a big greasy bag, just like at those old cinemas downtown."

Uhura pauses. Then she turns off her PADD. Gaila grins a shit-eating-grin, knowing she's won so easily. Uhura pushes herself out from the desk and pulls on a cleaner cadet shirt before beginning to brush her hair.

"What is this movie anyway?" she asks, tying it up into her standard pony tail and slipping on her boots.

"Totally romantic early Terran film - _An Affair to Remember_. Cary Grant, so beautiful," she grins. "Total chick flick so I won't even get stuck talking to guys which I know you hate. Just us for two hours and then you can come back."

"Fine, let's go. Come on, before all the popcorn is gone," she says, grabbing a few credits.

"'Atta girl," Gaila grins opening the door and leading Uhura out the very moment Kirk and McCoy were walking past.

"Clara, Gaila," Kirk cat-calls and winks as McCoy beside him chastises for using such a derogatory greeting to the women. Uhura rolls her eyes and glares at Gaila.

"I'm going back inside," she deadpans. "I'm not getting in a lift with them."

"No, you need to come out," Gaila says. "Kirk can you stop being a shit just for once? And what is Clara, anyway? Who is that?"

"That's Uhura's name," he explains. "At least, what I'm going to call her until she actually tells me her first name."

"That's stupid," Gaila says. "Her first name is Yvonne."

Kirk smirks and looks to Uhura, who begs Gaila just to leave the conversation. "Yvonne, huh? Yvonne Uhura, I mean it sounds very nice. It's just that I don't believe you for a second, Gaila."

"Fine, don't believe me," she shrugs and folds her arms. "Your choice, whatever, I don't know why you insist on wasting our time over these stupid games."

Kirk grins and McCoy hits him on the shoulder a little harder than what is considered friendly.

"Let's go. I apologise," says McCoy as he pushes Kirk away. "He's an idiot who doesn't know how to treat a lady. Have a good night."

They leave then, back down to the staircase to the floor below them and Gaila skips over to call the turbolift. She is grinning and vibrant, watching as Kirk leaves for the stairwell.

"He's cute."

"McCoy? I think he could be your dad."

"He's not that old!" Gaila interupts. "And I meant Kirk."

Uhura looks at her roommate sharply.

"You know what will happen if I _ever_ find Kirk in our dorm," she says bitingly.

The turbolift opens four levels too early, they realise as they prepare to depart, only to be face to face with the tall, rigid posture of Commander Spock. Gaila instantly straightens up. Uhura ripps her fingers from her mouth and manages to hide them behind her back. He's dressed sharply in the Starfleet uniform and is obviously on duty while in the cadet dormitories, of which Uhura has never seen him visit.

"At ease, Cadets," he signals, stepping into the turbolift.

"What are you doing at the dormitories so late, Commander?" Uhura asks as the door closes.

"There was a disturbance on the male's level," he replies. "The situation has been resolved."

"We're going to a screening in the common room," Gaila perks up from the side. "A terran film is showing, and there is real popcorn available. Would you like to come, Commander? It's called _An Affair to Remember_. It's a romance film. It's really beautiful."

The Commander looks at Uhura.

"Did you read the latest paper by J.R. Jones regarding -,"

"I'm sorry," Gaila interrupts, "This is a strictly no work conversational turbolift environment. Now would you like to come to the film with us, or not?"

"I am not acquainted with many Terran love stories. It will be good?"

"There will be popcorn," informs Gaila. "And yes, it will be good."

"I do not consume popcorn," Spock replies. "I hope that does not affect my ability to partake in the film."

"It doesn't," Uhura clarifies quickly, finally managing to find her voice. "And I did read the article, Commander - I found it very interesting."

"NO WORK CONVERSATIONAL TURBOLIFT," Gaila reminds them loudly. "God all I hear every day is Commander Spock this, linguistics that, can we please have one night of just enjoying a movie without talking about speech patterns of the 1920s?"

Uhura squeaks and looks to the Commander. "I have never said such things. And the speech patterns, especially in Europe are very interesting in the 1920s, sir."

"STOP!" Gaila cries. "I don't know how much I can take. Ugh."

"We will discuss the matter on Monday," says the Commander. "Perhaps we could use this film as a reference."

"Why can't I just have normal friends," Gaila mutters as the turbolift opens to the lobby and then out to the quad.

They walk across the quad to the common room which is sparsely populated by predominantly female cadets and a few professors. Commander Spock greets Literature and Creative Writing Professor Hal Jacobs as the students take their seats. Uhura sits down in a reclining black chair and is considerably surprised when Commander Spock, after peeling himself away from Professor Jacobs, settled beside her. Gaila grabs a bag of salted popcorn and begins shovelling the dessert into her mouth.

Professor Jacobs dims the lights as small pouches of tissues are being handed out.

"Tissues are being handed out as this is a bit of a tear-jerker," informs the Professor. "Commander Spock is joining us for the session tonight, so if this movie can't elicit an emotional response, I don't know what will!" he laughs awkwardly and it is echoed across the room.

Spock looks to Uhura.

"Was that considered a joke?"

"A bad one," Uhura mutters back, sinking into her chair.

The film starts. Gaila munches on the popcorn. Uhura drinks her lemonade. Commander Spock sits in the chair with his hands clasped over his lap.

"Why does she simply not inform him of the fact that she has been run down by a motor vehicle?" asks the Commander as Terry sits in the lounge with the red shawl draped over her. "Surely he will understand."

"She is too proud," informs Uhura. "It's her thing. She's a proud woman and he's a playboy so she doesn't trust his love for her is strong enough."

"Shh," Gaila hisses.

He does not seem contented with that explanation but does not say any more about the matter until closer to the end.

"Does he not notice when she doesn't get up to greet him?" he asks.

"No, I think he's too angry and hurt to notice," Uhura replies.

"Shh!" Gaila hisses.

"Why?"

"It's complicated, Commander. Love is complicated."

"Indeed. Especially Terran love, it seems."

"Shh!" Gaila reiterates, turning back to the film.

Uhura settles in to watch the end. She doesn't cry when he finds the painting, but it is a beautiful film.

"Aw the painting is in her room!" Gaila whimpers and grabs for a tissue. "She loved him all along!"

"So beautiful," Uhura agrees. "I'm glad it was a happy ending. Did you see Roman Holiday with Audrey Hepburn? That played here in our first semester when I was living with Lucille. Such a sad ending."

"It was a romance that could never work," agrees Gaila. "But it was great."

The lights flick on and it is obvious Professor Jacobs was disappointed to have not evoked an emotional response from the Vulcan Commander.

Spock stands. "It is late. I should get back to my quarters. Thank you for inviting me to the film. It was a pleasant and informative experience. Uhura I will see you Monday. Cadets." He nodded his goodbye and left the common room.

Uhura and Gaila walk back to their dorm room. They silently ride the turbolift up and when they reach apartment, they both sits on Uhura's bed.

Uhura frowns and looks to Gaila.

"Did… did Commander Spock just join us for a chick-flick?" askes Uhura carefully, the words sounding even stranger after hearing them

"He joined us for a romance film," replies Gaila. "He sat next to you. He kept looking at you. Maybe to see if you would cry."

Uhura frowns.

Gaila frowns.

It is all truly very perplexing.

And suddenly Gaila bursts out laughing, "It was definitely _An Affair to Remember_!" she crows.

Uhura smothers the Orion with her pillow.

* * *

><p>Revised changed and edited - 312/2014

Please take the time to leave a review!

~ Arlia'Devi


	5. Chapter 5

**Chapter Five**

The ceremonial Starfleet uniform fits her very well. It is a deep red fitted suit with strong shoulders and makes her hips look slender and her body smooth. She is glad to have not been wearing a dress and being forced to confide to gender stereotypes on a business meeting. The boots are soft black leather, pointed and meticulously shined. She isinformed that Commander Spock's uniform is grey, though she's only ever seen the well-fitted jacket on other superior officers during important celebrations. There is a cap, apparently, that compliments her uniform but she has been exempt from wearing it.

Uhura thanks the tailor and leaves the office Wednesday morning to meet the Commander in his study. It is less than a week away from the conference and her nerves are building steadily, no doubt to reach a peak the day before she flies out. Last night she'd gone over irregular verbs in Trill. The night before, she'd revised her Vulcan flashcards. The night before that, common ways to politely ask where the toilet was in almost every language she knew just so she doesn't in accidentally offend anyone in trying to get out of a situation quickly.

She spends most of her time in Spock's office working on her own assignments and asking for his feedback. She organises his lessons, files his documents and searches for supplementary material. On some occasions, she sends out extra reading she finds interesting to his Introduction to Vulcan class, and has begun to answer some of the questions students have about the language. Last week, she'd scheduled a small study session in the library for any students interested and six had showed up - a tremendous effort, Spock had considered. At 1502 he brings her an apple and a chocolate confectionery from the cafeteria stating that her energy levels would be down after such intense concentration and that although her working hours with him are over for the day, she may stay and continue to finish her assignments.

She prints off her final assignment at 1632 before the mid-semester break and fills out her details - Professor Kim enjoys having her assessments on hardcopy, a process Uhura does hope she will not have to repeat because its such... _old fashioned_. She files it and puts it to one side, ready to be submitted. Spock is working over his desk and she is sitting on the small lounge that looks out over the quad. Underneath there are cadets playing basketball.

"Are you nervous?" Uhura asks. "About the conference?"

"Not at all," he replies. "Why, cadet, are you nervous?"

She swallows. "Yeah."

"About an aspect in particular?"

"Meeting really important people and screwing up."

"Colloquial," he comments, looking up from his work. "But I understand. There is nothing to worry about, Cadet. You will do very well."

"You are not concerned for any aspect?" she asks.

He hesitates.

"You are aware my mother will be there," he says, shutting off his COMM. "There is always a certain aspect of these conferences that are considerably informal after the main speeches have taken place. I leave before this point but Captain Pike often stayed. Since my mother will be there, I believe I will be expected to stay and… partake."

Uhura cracks a smile from the lounge and brings her legs under her knees.

"What are you talking about, Commander? What could they possibly do in these informal settings that scare you so?"

He cleared his throat.

"I am not scared, Cadet."

"Nevertheless, tell me."

He swallows.

"They dance."

Uhura laughs and then immediately stifles it when she realises the Commander is very, very serious.

"You have to dance?" she squeaks

"Socially, I will be obligated to," he replies.

"And you do not know how to dance?"

"That is correct."

"Your mother never taught you?" she asks.

"When I was younger, I had not chosen which part of my upbringing I wanted to lean towards - human or Vulcan. After I began schooling I had chosen the Vulcan way and there was no need to continue the lessons."

"Well," Uhura says, getting up from her chair. "It's never too late to learn."

"You do not wish to teach me here, do you?" he says warily, looking to the window by the doorway to see if anyone is passing by. There is not.

"Why not?" she says, "It's a big enough space. We've got to start somewhere. Are you worried someone might find us… _dancing_?"

"Computer, lock the door," he answers. Uhura grins and begins to loosen up. Spock raises from his desk chair and approaches Uhura. She looks at him square on and grins before offering him her hand. For a moment, he merely looks at it.

"I danced at my sister's wedding last year. I'll show you some basic moves," she says. Carefully she places her hand on the Commander's shoulder. He turns to look at it. "Dancing is a contact sport," she remarks. "Hold my hand and then put your hand on my hip."

"I do not feel comfortable touching you in such a way, Cadet."

"It's fine," she says. "You want to learn, you can't really get away from touching me, Commander - or me getting in your personal space. It's okay," she smiles softly. "It's, um, just professional."

He nods and takes up her hands, takes up her body into his grasp and holds her closer.

She clears her throat and feels the head creep from her chest, up her neck and then to her cheeks. She wonders if it's noticeable to him given her darker complexion. She hopes not.

"Now it's really simple," she begins. "We're just going to sort of sway and walk around in something that resembles a shape. Either a square or a circle. Wait," she breaks away from him suddenly. "We need some music. Computer play… Easy Listening radio."

Soft tunes flood through the office, of trumpets and saxophones and deep ranging voices. Uhura smiles and took back up the position by the Commander.

"Okay, just relax and move like I do. Try to follow me at first."

She leads him from the female position, guiding his feet and his hips and his body in small circles that sway and move gracefully across the small square of his office. Uhura looks into his eyes, such a deep brown and so large - they aren't Vulcan eyes, she realises, they're too large and wonderfully perceptive. She realises they're inherited from his mother and they're just so lovely. He looks up then, from where their feet weave around each other and she offers him a smile.

"You're doing really well, Commander," she smiles. "Now spin me?"

"Pardon?" he replies, but then she has taken her arm from his shoulder and twists around the hand that clasped hers, smiling as she comes back into his embrace.

"That was good," she grins

"I didn't do anything."

"Next time, just spin someone whenever you feel like it," she says. "It's a bit of fun."

"Fun?" he considers.

"You don't think this is fun?" she asks, swaying quietly. The music has finished and instead of the upbeat jazz number about a Knife named Mack, the next song is slow, sensual and soft.

"I love this song," Uhura hums quietly, closing her eyes. "Your hands are really warm you know."

"Biologically, Vulcans are on average 4.2 degrees hotter than humans," he responds monotonously.

"Interesting."

"My heart is also where your liver is," he informs her.

"Really?" she replies. "How interesting. If you're trying to woo women by dancing with them, don't tell them that. In fact, don't engage with any small talk. Just dance."

He swallows thickly. This is beyond uncomfortable but he cannot seem to move or to end the 'dancing' they are engaged in. The simple swaying of her body is enjoyable however, the physical contact, especially her hand pressed so well into his is making it hard to keep any mental distance. Just a small movement would cause a slip and he would inadvertently fall into her thoughts and her mind and he had no intention of doing that. Maybe it is foolish - she does not have any strong telepathic abilities, so could not foster a link, still there was nothing stopping him sending a slither of emotion through them… He considers it quickly. It is not advantageous to do that.

She smells of honey and fruits, he thinks. Her hair is soft, glossy and smells wonderful as well. He has never noticed how wonderfully deep her amber eyes are and they glimmer in the sunshine. They're wide and the lashes are sooty and fan across her eyelid. Her makeup is a little worn and it smudges a little in the crease, but there is a light dusting of deep pink on her cheeks and he wonders if it is artificial or not.

"My mother would sing this to me when I was younger," she smiles, looking up to him. "Sweet dreams until sunbeams find you… Sweet dreams that leave your worries far behind you. It's a wonderful song. Like a lullaby."

"It's pleasant," he replies stiffly.

"Do you think you could do this, or do you need more practice?" she asks and then makes him twirl her again. When she comes back into his embrace, her hand is slightly lower and rests on his collarbone. "We can practice before we go."

"I believe I will be fine," Commander Spock replies. "Thank you for aiding in the social aspect of this conference, Cadet. You should submit your assignment before the close of business today."

Suddenly, she jumps back and runs over to get the assignment sheet and her backpack. Spock stands stunned for a moment, at her sudden detachment as she scurries to gather all her belongings.

"Oh of course," she gushes. "Computer, radio off. Unlock the door. Thank you, Commander, I was a little distracted there."

"It is no concern, Cadet. I will meet you at 0800 on Friday to depart for New York City," he nods and then goes to open the door for her. "Thank you for all your work."

She smiles and slows her pace a moment. "Thank you Commander, I could not have done it without you."

"I disagree but accept the compliment you are inferring towards me."

She lingers before clearing her throat and exiting through the door. Commander Spock stands motionless in the centre of his office for just a moment before he notices something on the small grey lounge by the window. He approaches it - Cadet Uhura's jacket, left on accident. He picks it up. The material is soft and black, not a Starfleet issue, but more of a simple knitted cardigan. There are traces of a number of perfumes on the collar. He folds it once over and puts it on the back of the lounge. She would no doubt collect it Friday.

Until then, all he can smell in his office is her perfumes and scents, though they are very discreet.

He finds it to be not unpleasant.

* * *

><p>Uhura nibbles on the end of her stylus. Gaila is working over her desk, typing programmes into her PADD with a determined look on her face. She huffs slightly, noticing her roommates staring and looks away from her code.<p>

"Why are you staring at me?" Gaila asks. "Please stop staring at me. It's creeping me out."

"I was at the Commander's today," Uhura begins slowly, twiddling her toes. She crawls across to Gaila's bed when it is obvious she is no longer concerned about her coding assignments.

Gaila drops her PADD immediately. "His office?"

"He called me in," Uhura nods

"And what did he need to speak to you about?"

"He sat down and just informed me about the information about the Conference next week."

"Is it next week?" Gaila says. "What, we haven't even planned what you're going to wear! What! I can't believe I have let this get away from us."

"There's no social event that is proper for me to wear casual attire," Uhura replies. "I'll just wear my 'Fleet uniform for the trip, I expect he will as well."

"So boring," Gaila complains.

"Well," says Uhura. "Are you going to listen to me? He called me in and informed me that his father, the Vulcan Ambassador, was planning on attending. Did you know that, his father is the Ambassador? I didn't."

"No," Gaila replies. "Honestly, I don't know much about the professor's life, but that's certainly interesting."

"His mother is planning in going as well, to see him," Uhura says. "He wanted to ask me if it was fine we attend a social family gathering. I said it would be fine, but I believe that wasn't the answer he wanted."

"Strange," Gaila quirks, scratching at her red curls. "Wow. Meeting the parents, I think you're skipping some very important steps there, Nyota."

"Shut up," Uhura laughs. "It is just very… _strange_, don't you think? I'm nervous though. I don't want to screw it up."

Gaila just laughs. There's something about her, Nyota thinks, the way she just disregards everything and brushes it off. She has to wonder if Gaila has ever taken anything too seriously in her life - she supposes it is a nice way to live.

"Please, Ny stop doing this to yourself. You'll do great. You speak all the languages possibly spoken at this conference and a few more," Gaila says. "And it kills me to see you second guessing yourself. Well, why don't we go out and shop? What if you find the opportunity to wear you know something nice? I know the Starfleet uniforms are just so flattering, but you know, a nice dress or something. What if something comes up and you don't have anything to wear?" Gaila laughs. "And the Commander is wearing those really terrible tropical flower shirts and you need something to draw the attention away from him?"

Uhura laughs, "That is not a situation that is likely to arise."

"Whatever," says Gaila, grabbing her handbag from the shelf and a pair of shoes. "Let's go shopping - come on."

"Wait," Uhura grins but begins to put on her own boots as well. "There's more."

"Oh goodie!" Gaila says, throwing herself on Uhura's bed with the shoes in tow. She picks up a bottle of red nail polish and a tissue, beginning to paint her toes. "Tell all."

"He said there are often social aspects of these conferences, one which now that his mother is attending, he will also be expected to attend," Uhura explains. "They dance. He doesn't know how."

"You didn't," Gaila gasps. "Tell me you didn't!"

"I taught him a little in the office," Uhura grins. "There was nothing behind it, no ulterior motive - Captain Pike said he suggested me as a replacement for him, I don't want to let him down. It is really the least I can do. He was very uncomfortable though. I thought it was kinda... well, nice."

"Erase what I said before about you skipping all the steps," Gaila says. "The steps can be done by the time you meet his parents." Gaila switches feet. The nail varnish is bright and unmistakably pigmented, even with one coat. "What is this colour called? Whorehouse red?"

"I use it on my toes," Uhura replies. "And stop it, please. Haven't you had a professional relationship with someone? He's my superior officer, Gaila. Like my mentor, I guess."

"Of course I have," Gaila says. "Just that my relationships were professional, I never taught someone how to dance, Nyota. Tell me, did you sing a little in his ear? Did he pull you just a little bit closer so you were almost touching?"

Uhura's cheeks flame at the thought - had she sung to him? She can't remember exactly. His hand had moved down further on her ribs to the junction of her side and hipbone, but that was where hands were supposed to naturally rest, wasn't it?

"You two are going to bang," Gaila sums up, giving Uhura back her nail polish and grabbing her bag again. "It might not be this month, hell, it might not even be this year but there is no two ways about it. You're going to bang the Commander. You're going to rock his world. Come on, we'll pick you up some condoms while we're out."

"We're not going to 'bang'," Uhura rebukes with a squeak. She runs after Gaila as she leaves the apartment quickly, picking up her COMM and her handbag as the door closed behind her. Gaila waits for her in the turbolift. "We're in a professional, um," he adjusts her clothes a little. "Relationship. And that's how it will stay."

"Whatever you say." Gaila rolls her eyes. "Just tell me if it's green."

"If what is g- _Gaila_!"

"And big."

"I'm not talking to you anymore. Not about this."

"Fine."

Uhura's COMM rings. She checks it in her bag but instead of bringing it out to return the message, she quickly folds her bag back over it.

Gaila glances sideways. "That was him, wasn't it?"

Uhura does not reply.

* * *

><p>Revised, edited and uploaded: 312/2014

Please remember to leave a review before you go! They help me out a lot and only take 30 seconds.

~ Arlia'Devi


	6. Chapter 6

**Chapter Six**

She meets with him at five on Monday afternoon during the mid-semester break-up when he is carefully organising a stack of PADDs on his desk. They are no doubt the first years assignments she is about to be asked to review grades for again and she can't help but hope her tutoring students have all gone at least a little better since she'd started the weekly meeting groups. She's only just submitted her assessments thirty minutes previously, some a whole five days before their due date, but she has been organised, has got to be organised and is nothing if not a little sleep-deprived.

But she has bigger things to worry about.

She buzzes the door on the Commander's office and he clears to let her in a moment later.

"Cadet," he nods a greeting, as usual.

"Commander," she greets back, approaching the table. He gestures for her to sit.

"Can I help you with anything?" she asks.

He hands her a stack of PADDs. "First grading on these is a priority. They must be completed before Thursday. They are second year Xenolinguistics, mid-year intake. The class you have just completed."

"Oh," she says. "Okay - I don't know if-,"

"The Introduction to Vulcan students which attended your study sessions improved their grades by an average of 43.97 percent over the cadets who chose not to attend," he interrupts.

"Oh," she smiles then. "That's really good to hear. I worried my teaching methods weren't going to help at all. I'm glad they improved, that's really nice to hear - and good that maybe we can improve relations with so many Starfleet members having some knowledge of a language other than Standard after graduation," she scoffs. "As a linguistics student, the number of cadets who can only speak Standard and a few other Terran languages is astounding."

"Is that not what translated were invented?" he asks.

She pauses for a moment, "Well, yes, but it's really all just AI. I mean, it's a little old fashioned but you only need a light storm to mess up the calibration and suddenly you're telling an Andorian diplomat that his home planet is made out of cheese and that his wife is a badger."

The corners of Spock's lips twitch. "I consider it your opinion correct."

"There is no substitution to the hard work in learning a language," she says. "Even with all our technology."

Uhura takes the small pile of PADDs and moves over to the couch by the window. Outside, it is a grey autumn day, more reminiscent of the real San Francisco than the programmed weather they use on an occasion. The rain drizzles against the tall window and drips down. Uhura sighs in contentment at the ambiance it created, there is just something so wonderful about looking at rain and working - something so relaxing. The opposite could be said however in being outside during the same weather. The room is warm, and she appreciates the few chances she gets see the actual weather patterns with another small sigh.

"Cadet, are you well?" comes the question from the desk behind her.

Uhura pushes her hair behind her ear and turns from the window to Spock.

"Yes, why?"

"You seem to be having trouble breathing."

"Oh," she laughs. "That's called a sigh."

"It is most irritating. Why are you doing it?"

"Humans sigh for lots of reasons sir. It is usually involuntary. Sorry," she replies.

"You did not answer my question."

She looks out to the window. "I suppose I was doing it to express contentment for the weather. It's not often we see the rain in San Francisco, even though it is supposed to rain here very often. The rain is relaxing. Somewhat cathartic."

"I do not share the sentiment."

"I suppose you wouldn't, it does get really cold here over winter," she replies. "I'll try to stop sighing as much, Commander."

"See that you do."

She works in his office until seven and has finished all but one paper when he goes out to retrieve dinner. He comes back with a pasta dish and handed the small plastic container to her.

"We still have much to discuss, unless you would prefer to come back tomorrow, Cadet," he offers, handing her a plastic fork and a glass of water.

"No, I'm almost done with these reports - I don't have anything planned. We can speak in a moment."

"Long periods of concentration affect your accuracy - take a moment to eat, Cadet," he orders. Uhura pushes herself off of the sofa settles on the floor to eat on the coffee table. Across the table, the commander has done the same and is sitting cross legged as he cut a bread roll with a knife and handed half to her.

"Permission to ask a personal question, Commander," she asks.

"Granted."

"Do you like living on Earth?"

"Like is a subjective word," he replies.

"Do you find it suitable?"

He hesitates, "It is very similar to Vulcan in some places - Australia, for example is almost as close as it may get to the climate of my home planet. The weather stabilising technology allows me to reside in places I would not usually in regards to the climate."

"This is not a very definitive answer, Commander," she interjects.

"Perhaps I do not have a definitive answer," he counters and she grins over the lip of her glass. "Did you read over the article I sent you yesterday, Cadet?"

"Yes, it was very interesting, but I did not agree with it," she replies.

"May I ask why? Dr. Deiter is a very accomplished professional. You agreed about his thesis regarding the cultural development of High and Low Romulan, did you not?"

"I did," Uhura replies, shifting her food around in the bowl. "But this paper felt like it was an entirely different Doctor writing it. You can't say you agreed with his analysis of Bajorian culture in relation to the development of a phonetic language, can you? Logically, of course, Commander."

"Logically," he repeats. "I agree with you, Cadet."

Uhura laughs a little over her food, taking a sip of water.

"You do, really?"

"I too believed this to be a work that was not up to his usual standard," the Commander states. "You find it hard to believe I would agree with you on a matter, Cadet?"

"A little, yes?"

"Because you are not certain on your own interpretation on the text, or because of mine? Had I told you that you were wrong, would you have seen to my reasons and agreed to them?"

"Only if you argued for your own case, Commander," she says. "I was nervous about reading it and analysing it so critically, when in reality, I have very little authority to argue against the doctor, but if you had not convinced me to a logical conclusion then I would have not swayed my judgement. I probably would have tried to sway you from your opinion of the text."

"And I you, which may have resulted in a lengthy but interesting discussion."

She hands him the PADDs she's marked

"For your assessment, sir," she says. "I reviewed them to the standard Starfleet protocol, and cross-referenced that with the marking template you employed on my assessments last year and have left suggested marks at the bottom of the documents for you to consider."

"That will be helpful. What was your opinion on the assessment quality overall?"

"Average," she replies honestly.

"That is the opinion I have gathered also. I had considered the possibility there may be better papers in the half I gave you."

"Not particularly," she replies. "Most of their arguments are not supported very well by the given texts, and some even refer to texts that they have found on the internet - which are written by observant journalists without a creditable background."

He nods, "I will make note of that And you are prepared for the conference?"

"Yes, sir," she nods.

"You have received your ticket?"

"Yes," she says. "I am prepared. Will I bring any casual clothes? Or will we be expected to be in uniform for the majority of the trip?"

"You will be expected to be in uniform for the flight, but if there are any social or cultural activities you wish to partake in either Thursday afternoon or Saturday morning, you are welcome to dress out of uniform."

"I was going to ask if we could attend the exhibition currently at the MET, would you be interested in attending it with me?" she asks. "It's on Hellenistic Culture and Alexander the Great. Perhaps after lunch on Thursday."

"I was endeavouring to attend an exhibition at the Museum of Natural History, also - I am particularly interested in observing their vast dinosaur display which is currently on exhibition. Perhaps we can come to a compromise?"

"I love dinosaurs," Uhura admitted with a small laugh, before realising that her hyperbole was probably somewhat confusing to the Commander. "I mean, they're really interesting. It is not a compromise when each party is willing to happily partake in the others activities."

"Correct," he conceeds. "The maps on the COMM suggest both establishments are on opposite sides of Central Park, and are only a twenty minute walk from each other. Providing it is not raining, this seems agreeable."

"Perfect," Uhura says and smiles again, because for some reason, she just can't seem to stop. She wonders if it's a little jarring for him, having so many facial expressions presented to him at once. She thinks to ask him, but can't decide whether it is rude or not.

"Agreeable," he corrects.

* * *

><p>She arrives back to her dorm at 20:42 and Gaila, unsurprisingly, is waiting for her.<p>

"You're home late," she says from her bedroom, leaning against the doorframe with her arms crossed over her chest.

"I had to mark papers," Uhura yawns, throwing her bag under her bed. "Sorry I'm late."

"You can mark papers here!" Gaila says sternly. "Where I can see you and the Commander and supervise you two! I don't like the thought of you being alone together - you missed dinner!"

"The Commander picked up dinner from the cafeteria. We ate while we worked," that is not exclusively true, but she is too tired to do this tonight.

"THE COMMANDER GOT YOUR DINNER?!" she shrieks and then her mouth bursts into a bit of a smile and she giggles.

Uhura rolls her eyes.

"Let it go, you're not my mother," she grins.

"Not your mother?" Gaila continues, her voice rising. "Nyota Vivian Uhura, you are to go to your room right now."

Uhura did go to her room to fetch her towel.

"My middle name is not Vivian."

"Yeah, sorry, _Pretty Woman_ is on TV at the moment," Gaila replies sheepishly. "So you had dinner with the Commander… again?"

"Yeah. Had to mark half of his assignments. He's still there working, I think. I'm going to go to sleep. Maybe slip into a small coma." Uhura closes the door and pulled off her clothes. She turns the water on and stepped into the shower, tying up her hair in the process. When she is clean and relaxed, she pulled on fresh underwear and a loose shirt.

"Night, Ny," Gaila cooes from her room. "I'll keep it down for you."

"Night, Gai," she repeats back tenderly. She closes the door to her room and slips into bed.

For the first time, Uhura dreams of the Commander. He approaches her, his hand outstretched and she laughs and moves into his embrace. Music play around them, soft and mellow and wonderful.

"_You have gotten better_," she says to him as they swayed. He does not reply. She allows her head to rest against his shoulder.

There is no one else in that large beautiful 1920s ballroom in her mind. No one but them. And it is very much _agreeable_.

* * *

><p>Leonard McCoy is eating in the mess hall when he isapproached by the Orion notorious around the campus for her fiery looks, infectious smile and a little something else on the side. But hey, he doesn't judge - the woman is free to do what she wants as long as she gets those quarterly pregnancy shots. Gaila is a perky woman and not bad to look at but she has never really given him much time outside the clinic, other than a passing wave or a nod. It is surprising then, when she plonks herself down in front of him. He swallows the bite of his turkey sandwich as Gaila regards him squarely.<p>

"Can I help you with something?" McCoy asks.

"Yes," Gaila says. "You know Jim Kirk right?"

"Yeah, my roommate" McCoy replies. "Why?"

"And you know Uhura, right?"

"Of course," he replies, and then he frowns a little, imaging over a hundred thousand situations involving the two - all of them to do not end well for him. "Why, what have they done?"

"That's what I want to find out," Gaila explains.

McCoy bites into his sandwich. "You have lost me."

Gaila hums, "Has Kirk ever mentioned to you why Uhura hates him so much?"

"Uhura hates Kirk?"

"Ohhh yes," Gaila nods. "You've never noticed? He's your roommate, isn't he? And the other week in the hall - nevermind, but she's not the biggest fan of him ever, in fact, I've been blatantly told I can never sleep with him, even if he offers."

"Well, I see. That is a little extreme," McCoy replies.

"I know, right?" Gaila huffs like not sleeping with Jim may just be the worst thing going on in her life at the moment. McCoy drinks his cola. "I mean, I've never actually heard him say much about her."

"Listen something has gone down between them," Gaila says. "He's never mentioned anything?"

"Do you want me to ask?" McCoy says. "And why does this even matter? People don't like people all the time. Unless you're trying to get them together, because that really won't work out, honey, I'm sorry to break it to you. Jim likes to play the field and those two together would just be a... well, bad."

"No, _no_," Gaila laughs, "there is something that's happened between them and Uhura won't tell me what. Anyway, I'm working on a relationship for her with someone else, no I was just curious to see if you knew."

McCoy finishes his sandwich. "So, what exactly do you want?"

"Just ask," Gaila says. "It's killing me. I need to know."

"All right," McCoy huffs. "I'll ask."

"Thanks," Gaila says. "And also don't tell Uhura about this."

"I remember when he signed up at the last minute in Iowa, she glared at us and rolled her eyes the whole ride to San Francisco. I remember he was pretty beat up then too, Kirk I mean," McCoy recalls thoughtfully. "Maybe that has something to do with it. And why are you so interested - why don't you just ask her, Gaila?"

Gaila huffs. "It's just not that easy. She won't tell me anything about it. And I need a project over the mid-semester break."

"You don't have enough work to do?" McCoy asks.

"Not where Uhura is concerned," Gaila grins. "Thanks for your help, McCoy. That helps."

"Whatever," McCoy grunts. "Have fun with your project, Gaila. See you next week for your shot."

"Wouldn't forget our meet-ups, doc," Gaila laughs, retreating out of the mess hall, down the stairs and out into the quadrangle.

There are a few people playing racquetball on the brick wall by the basketball court and Gaila can see Uhura running her usual track - she is at the far point of the track and is slowing down her jog. Walking across the quad is the Commander in question. Gaila huffs as he makes his way up the stairs, crossing her arms. He had noticed Uhura at the end of the track, had hesitated on continuing his way into the Science building. Sure, his stride had never faltered, nor had he obviously gazed in her direction, but Orions like to think of themselves as masters of love, and Gaila certainly is. There is something going on there, and like the thing with Kirk, she will find out any way possible. Until then, there is a lot of ground work to do.

* * *

><p>"The Commander likes you," Gaila says when Uhura entered their room again, very sweaty and tired from her run.<p>

"I'd hope so," Uhura replies, grabbing her towel. "Not much fun going away with someone who doesn't. Why did he tell you that?"

"I can tell," Gaila says from her desk. "He watched you work out today."

Uhura frowns a little and Gaila realises she isn't startled by the idea the Commander had watched her run about.

"You like the Commander, don't you Nyota?" Gaila accuses. "Even just a little bit. Even just thinking about going there."

"What?" she gapes back. "No!"

Gaila rolls around on her bed. "Come on, Ny. Admit it. You have a thing for the Commander. It will make our lives much easier."

She doesn't say anything, but doesn't move either. Gaila smiles from her position upside-down on her bed. Suddenly, Uhura darts into the bathroom, locks the door and Gaila bounces off her bed to follow.

"He's my superior officer," she complains through the doorway.

"This is the most interesting thing that has ever happened here," Gaila replies in glee. "And that wasn't an answer to my question, Nyota."

She cracks the door and peeps out of it.

"Okay… so I enjoy our conversations."

"Wow the pheromones," Gaila coughed a little moved back, waving her hands in mockery in front of her face. "He's hot though. And we both know you need to get laid. Do it. Why not?"

"He's my superior officer, my teacher, my former professor, a professional colleague, first officer on the _Enterprise_," she holds up her hands, fingers outstretched. "Wow, there are like five reasons for you on why this is a bad idea off the top of my head."

"He likes you," Gaila says said holding up one finger, "Oh wow, look at that reason, trumping all your other reasons." She moves her finger down, like a gun, and shoots at Uhura. "Pew, pew."

"Stop it," Uhura replies. "Gaila stop, please. I don't want it to be any more complicated than it needs to be. I want to get an off-planet internship next semester, the only way I'll get one so early into my third year is with the Commander's written reference, and even then it's not guaranteed. And if we get involved or do something stupid, then it will make it seem like that I'm only there because of… well, favouritism."

Gaila sighs. "You guys are great for each other. I can tell. I am a master at love. But fine, have your morals and your nobility. After the end of semester, he won't be your teacher or employer. And you'll be free to do whatever you wish with him... _to_ him. " She tosses Uhura's towel, which has been forgotten on the floor, into the bathroom. "Have a shower, I can smell you from here."

"Sorry, it's really hot for August out there-,"

"Not in the sweat way," Gaila corrects and Uhura flushes red, shutting the door immediately and turning on the shower. Gaila grabbs a magazine and chuckled as she flicks through it. It is all just too easy.

* * *

><p>So if you guys haven't noticed, I've changed the tense of this fanfic after reconsidering and some edits. It just read and could be written easier than a past-tense fic for some bizarre reason, so I've decided to change and edit a lot of the chapters. Please conisder skimming over the last 5 chapters, as some of it from the 312/2014 has been changed and revised. I completed this story for NanoWrimo and it's completed at 60K words and 21 chapters. I hope you all join me for what is to be a very fun and romantic and funny and soppy ride with these two.

As always, please take the time to leave a review before you go. They help me out so much and I always love hearing from you.

See you all soon,

~ Arlia'Devi


	7. Chapter 7

**Chapter Seven**

Uhura wakes at 0542 and manages to leave the apartment by 0614, saying goodbye to Gaila as she departs hastily. He will be waiting for her, no doubt, and she has no intention of keeping the Commander waiting. The Orion, sleepily leaning against the doorframe in only a bra and panty set, wishes her good luck and hugs her before Uhura slips on her shoes, swings her backpack over her shoulder and grabs her small dufflebag.

"Don't do anything I wouldn't do," calls Gaila as Uhura closes the door behind her. Gaila smirks, peels herself off the doorway and promptly falls back into bed.

Uhura calls the turbolift. There's only a few students awake - some finishing an early run, others going down for a breakfast. The day is cool and the morning is crisp as she walks across the quad. The sky is overcast and it looks like it may rain - the weather manipulations must have taken a break recently, but rain is a nice change, Uhura thinks, and the wet, muddy, fresh smell it brings is always A sleek, dark sedan is sitting at the entrance to the campus. The driver promptly exits to pop the boot, and then Commander Spock exits from the back seat as well, approaches Uhura and gives a short greeting. She smiles, throws her baggage in the back, smooths out her skirt and takes a seat in the back of the sedan.

The car is warm, warmer than what is usually considered appropriate but it is not uncomfortable. Uhura notices Spock's bag by his feet. He is wearing a jacket himself, buttoned up to the top and wrapped around the strap of his brown leather satchel is a blue and black striped scarf.

"Sir, you do not have to change the temperature settings for me," she says.

"I do not wish to make you uncomfortable," he replies stoically.

"I do not wish to make you uncomfortable," she counters.

"I am comfortable," he replies.

"Good."

"Indeed."

"Well."

"You are in possession of your ticket?"

"Yes."

"It would affect our tight schedule if we arrived at the airport to find that you had forgotten it," he summarises.

"I haven't," she replies and then stifles a yawn.

"You are tired."

"A little."

"You will not be too weary to engage in the exhibitions this afternoon?" he asks. "I have already scheduled a two-thirty session for the Museum of Natural History."

She smiles, "You're so keen for the dinosaurs."

"Not at all, I am intrigued."

"You really love them."

"That is untrue."

"It's fine," she replies. "I'll be fine. Maybe I will sleep on the plane. Did you and Captain Pike ever go and look at dinosaurs or anything fun like this?"

"No," the Commander says. "He often frequented bars. He often asked me to come along."

"But you didn't?"

"No," he says, folding his hands over his lap.

Uhura smiles and gazes at the sea, glimmering with the sunrise as the car drives over the Golden Gate Bridge. It is a tranquil scene and she suppresses the desire to sigh. They pass the Walt Disney Museum and Uhura points it out.

"I have not been," Spock replies. "I do not think I have viewed any of his films, either."

"Classic children's entertainment of the 20th and 21st century," she explains. "His work was the foundation for animation in films. Very interesting. After his death, there was a rumour that he was cryogenically frozen, it was believed almost exclusively by the Western population, even into the 22nd century, as a big conspiracy theory by the government. Of course, he wasn't."

"Interesting," Spock comments and she wonders if he really thinks it is. She doesn't say anything after that, and neither does he.

The car continues through San Francisco city and across the Oakland Bay Bridge, past Treasure Island and then south towards the airport. It's a long drive and the trafffic isn't great, so there are long instances of remaining completely silent and motionless which she feels the air could be cut with only a sharp knife. She looks to the Commander who is watching the bay slowly slip past them from outside his window when she decides the silence is too much to take.

"Captain Pike told me it was your idea to invite me to the Conference," Uhura says.

Spock turns his head a little but does not move to look at her.

"Thank you, Commander."

"He did not wish to go," Spock replies. "It was only logical. You were the first in my class - you will benefit from the experience more than he."

"Of course," she nods. "Well, I still want to thank you."

"You have stated that numerous times in the past weeks," he informs her.

She clears her throat a little, "It's a quirk humans have, I suppose," she says. "Sometimes we feel like if we say it again, we mean it more. Like apologising, or thanking someone."

"Peculiar."

"I suppose," she shrugs a little.

When they arrive at the airport, Uhura fumbles to find her documents as Spock stands, pays the driver and gathers their luggage. She pulls them out with a huff and Spock apporaches the terminal and they book in for the flight, check their luggage, are smiled sweetly by the attendant who offers them their airport lounge tickets while waiting to board. Uhura's COMM flashes and it's a letter from Karem. She smiles, puts down her backpack where Spock has taken up a sofa in the lounging area before going to make a cup pf tea.

"Karem Uhura," Spock replies when Uhura comes back, noticing her penning the reply. "Lived across the hall from me when we were cadets."

"I know," Uhura says with a small smile. "It's hard to remain in contact, but he replies to my messages whenever he gets back into Federation sectors."

"He did not have your dedication to his studies," Spock comments, taking up his own COMM when it rings. "You are the youngest?"

"Yes," she nods. "And I agree - he failed like three classes, he was always out partying, brought a new girl home every holidays, he never took it seriously. My older sister Maleka isn't in Starfleet. I think our parents are relieved a little. Do you have siblings, Commander?"

"A half-brother from my father's side," he says. "We do not speak of him, however."

"Oh," Uhura mutters, dropping her head. She finishes her letter and sends it off. "I'm sorry."

"You should not be," he informs her.

"It's polite," she explains curtly.

"As it is considered polite, I will accept," replies Spock, then looks up at her - looks up from under those deep lashes that frame his wide brown eyes. "Do you wish to repeat it to convey a level of sincerity?"

"You're teasing me," Uhura laughs softly.

"I am not."

He is.

She finishes her tea and muffin when she excuses herself to the toilet. There was something more appealing about doing her business in a toilet that was not stationary. When she returns, Spock has gathered their things and informs her boarding has just been called. They make their way to the terminal in silence.

They board the small jet without a problem. Until it comes to taking their seats, Spock does not say anything.

"You may occupy the window seat, Cadet," he offers when they awkwardly shuffle down the plane's aisles. Uhura laughs and shimmies her way across the narrow isle and into the seat. Spock stows his luggage above her, removing a scarf from the pack and sits beside her.

"I have never been to New York City," gushes Uhura, wiggling to get her seatbelt on and adjusted.

"Neither have I. Hopefully navigation from the hotel will not be problem," Spock considers.

"I'm sure it will be fine," Uhura soothes. She vaguely watches the air hostess run through the safety protocol of the four hour flight. They would arrive at JFK at 1130, get changed; go to the MET, eat lunch in Central Park, then travel across to the Museum of Natural History, go back to The Palace, get dinner, go over their plans for the morning and then sleep. It is a sound plan, she realises. She looks to Spock, who is also not paying attention to the safety protocol. She supposes they are really astronauts - their life is safety protocol, except their 10,000 lightyears above Earth, not 10,000 feet.

"They are still regulations, Cadet," she hears the Commander remind her and she gives him a small smile, though he does not look up from where he is typing a message on his COMM to pay any attention either.

After a long wait, they begin to take off and taxi along the runway. A small child cries at the end of the jet as the air pressure shifts. She feels herself being pushed back into her seat, tries to calm herself, tries to tell herself it is silly being worked up by a simple air flight but her heart is beating rapidly in her chest and she grasps the armchair cushion with the tips of her fingers. Her eyes cut over to Spock. He looks impassive but in a second, his gaze, sharp and assessing turns to her and she wonders if maybe Spock is scrutinizing her nervousness, wondering if maybe she's best suited to a profession with Starfleet on-planet like she's wondered herself a few times, looking up to that great black abyss above. Uhura watches as San Francisco grows smaller. She can make out Starfleet for a moment and then they're flying over the shimmering ocean and if it looks so good from up here, she has to wonder what the view may be like in orbit, or even further - on planets she's never seen, on landscapes never seen before.

Uhura settles into her seat as the plane evens out and turns to look at the Commander. He is reading something on his PADD, not at all interested in the view. Then he looks up, Uhura knows she is caught staring but he doesn't say anything. Instead he puts down his PADD and-

"Do you mind?" he asks, leaning over to adjust the settings on the above air conditioning. He turns the cool air off.

"Of course not, Commander, it doesn't bother me." The Commander settles back down into his chair. Uhura nibbles on her bottom lip and asks, "What are the sleeping arrangements for New York?"

"We will be staying in separate rooms," he replies. "Next to each other. I must ask you please refrain from tampering with my environmental controls as your brother did."

"He did that?" Uhura says.

"Indeed," Spock hums, flicking to the next page of his article. "It was a hobby of his."

"That must have been annoying," Uhura huffs. "He is annoying. He's in deep space and he's still annoying."

"_Annoying_ would not be a term I would use," he replies.

Uhura slips in her earbuds and settles down beside the window. Beside her, Spock continues to read. Somewhere between her soft easy-listening artists and moving into deeper relaxation classical music, Spock notices that Uhura is no longer conscious to the sound echoing into her cochlea, but the music aids in maintaining the brainwaves associated with a peaceful nap.

Commander Spock orders tea from the air hostess and watches as she casts an eye to his companion. Uhura's body has wound about itself, her legs are tucked under her rear and her other arm drapes across her stomach. Uhura's eyelashes flutter against her cheek occasionally. He watches their movements and likens them to the twitching of butterfly wings, or moth wings since they are sootier and thick. His observation complete, he leans across to allow the chair to recline a little and Uhura stretches unconsciously to accommodate the shift. She sighs, does not wake, and settles into the seat again peacefully.

Commander Spock receives his tea from the air hostess and goes back to his article on the COMM. A message sparkes up on the screen.

_Cannot wait to see you, darling._

It's his mother. His fingers linger on opening the message to reply, or to slide it left and remove it from the homepage.

Spock rests his cup of tea on the small seat table and decide to pen a short message back to his mother, lest save a small remarks his mother

_Safe travels to you and father. I look forward to our meeting at the Conference._

- _Spock._

Uhura wakes to the sun in her face and she hurriedly wipes her bottom lip before sitting up, pressing for her seat to settle in its normal upright position.

"I fell asleep?" she asks drowsily.

"Evidently," Spock replies next to her. He is grading reports on his PADD, his legs crossed and his eyes focused. Uhura yawns, rubs at her eye carefully to avoid smudging her makeup and looks out the window - there is an unidentifiable land across the middle of America beneath them.

"How long did I sleep?" she asks.

"One hour and fifty-three minutes," Spock replies, not looking away from where he is tapping notes onto his PADD. "You completed one REM cycle and are most likely experiencing some sleep inertia."

"Yeah," Uhura mutters, stretching. "I feel better though."

"We will arrive in New York in approximately two hours' time. I will wake you when we are about to descend if you wish," he says.

"It's okay, I think I'll be fine now," she mutters. "I didn't snore, did I?"

He raises an eyebrow and his eyes cut over to her.

"No."

"Oh," she laughs. "Good."

"You normally do?"

"Gaila says I talk in my sleep."

"Interesting. I have never observed such an anomaly."

"What are you doing?" she asks, turning her music player off to lean across the seats.

"Marking second year exams," he informs. "This is my final paper." He writes down a mark - 67/100 - and minimises the screen before setting the PADD into his satchel. "Would you like to play a game of chess, cadet?"

"I am not very good, Commander," she smiles. "I would be no match for you, really."

He pulls out his PADD again and opens a small chess board display and begins a new match.

"Nevertheless, it is a productive way to pass the time. You may be white," he informs her. "You know the rules?"

"Yes," she nods.

"Proceed with your first move."

She moves a pawn two places - the second one from the left that is protecting her Knight . It is a simple move. He cannot criticise it.

He moves the pawn that protects his right side bishop. She cannot take the piece; it is resting just in front of hers. She considers the best course of action and makes her bishop skip over the pawn in an attempt to capture his rook.

In the next move, she does, but he captures three pawns in the following consecutive moves.

"That was a hasty strategy that did not provide any long lasting results," he replies, moving his Queen out. "Check, Cadet."

She sighs and moves her King aside. He can easily move his queen to the side again and reclaim check her again, when suddenly he takes his unused bishop and claims her king from across the board.

"I told you I wasn't very good."

"That was very much apparent," he says . "I defeated you in less than ten moves. The game did not last more than three minutes."

She wallowed in her defeat. "I said I wasn't good, Commander."

"Another game?" he proposes.

"So you can beat me again?" Uhura replies. "I don't think I could ever beat you, Spock, and I don't think my pride would let me play another game with you. Chess just isn't my thing."

"I do not doubt that you could _ever_ beat me," he replies, closing the screen. "You are very persistent and dedicated to your studies, if you applied the same to beating me at chess, I am sure you will beat me at a game some time during the future."

"In another universe."

"I do not believe in parallel universes," he replies.

She laughs. "They're not logical?" he does not reply to this, she thinks that perhaps he believes her words to be a statement. "Thank you anyway sir."

"Would you prefer a different game, or way to pass the time?" he asks. "I have been told I am a considerably rude travelling companion, thus I am attempting to alleviate your social discomfort."

"I don't think so," she replies. "Sometimes I just like to think, and relax and be in my own when I travel. I don't like long conversations where we just fill space. Silence is peaceful sometimes."

"Meditation helps," he replies.

"Really?" she says.

"It calms the mind, lowers stress, it is an essential daily routine in Vulcan and is especially important in my residence of earth, of whom the occupants are more… emotionally trying than those on Vulcan."

"Interesting," she says.

"It is quite simple, cadet."

"Can you show me some techniques?" she asks. "If it is not improper, of course."

He deliberates for a moment, and then nods, "If you wish. I can teach a number of simple exercises."

"That would be good. Are you happy to be seeing your family?"

"I endeavour it to be a pleasant and uneventful experience," he replies. "My mother would side with your expression, I believe. She will also most likely be satisfied in having another human to converse with over 'brunch'."

"Oh right, emotive speech, sorry."

"You do not have to change your speech patterns with conversing with me," he interjects. "I understood your query."

"For what it's worth, I look forward to speaking with her as well," Uhura replies. "I have read many of her articles published in the Starfleet database. I'm kinda a fan of her work; she's a very talented woman."

Spock glanced sideways and the corners of his mouth twitched in what seemed to Uhura to be a hinting of a smile.

"She now teaches a Starfleet collaborated class at the Academy."

"Do humans usually teach there?" she says. "I never thought-,"

"They don't."

Uhura wants to ask why he isn't there, even when his father is the Ambassador and his mother is a human teaching on Vulcan, but she can't seem to bring herself to ask the question. It doesn't stop her from wondering. When she thinks about actually asking him, she realises he is speaking again -

"I anticipate she will most likely talk to you at great lengths about things that concern humans, you will be well versed in her topics of conversation," he suggests. "Do not be worried."

"Okay," she replies. "I will try to stress a little less. I just want to make a good impression - there's a really great off-planet internship on Vulcan-,"

"You wish to attend the Vulcan Science Academy internships?" he asks.

She nods, "A possibility, of course. I speak the language, Starfleet have a good relationship with the Academy so it is a logical option to pursue."

"Indeed," he says. "Acquiring an off-world internship would be advantageous to any job opportunity after graduation. I will give you a written reference upon completion of your assistant role, if you wish."

"Thank you, Commander," Uhura says. "That is very gracious of you."

He is about to menrtion a fact or another that seems relevant to her interests when the fasten seatbelts sign flicks on. The air hostess begins speaking over the intercom. They are suddenly descending into New York's JFK airport. Uhura sits up straighter and Spock notices her hands grip the arm rests a little tighter, keep her eyes fixed out the window and not wandering across the cabin. When the plane hits a little turbulence, Uhura squeaks out a little shock and Spock looks to her, she looks at him and laughs a little -

"Sorry," she says. "I don't really enjoy flying."

He is finding that he is encountering a substantial number of surprises each day since meeting her.

"Interesting choice of career."

"Is space travel flying?" she laughs.

"Logically, no."

* * *

><p>Thank you for your support on my little fanfiction! I really love reading your comments and I'm sorry this chapter was a little late - I was caught up in jobs and work, and am I not the only one who hasn't finished their Christmas shopping? Anyway, please remember to leave a review before you go. I appreciate the time you take in doing so!<p>

See you soon!

~ Arlia'Devi


	8. Chapter 8

**Chapter Eight**

They take a groundcar into the city, from JFK to Madison Avenue. Uhura is silent the entire time, Spock notices, and her eyes do not avert from the window where the urban scenes of New York. The groundcar weaves through the streets and she sees everything, the light blue Tiffany's store, the large glass Bloomingdale's store that she wonders if she'll have time to visit and the trees, so leafy and all exactly the same height which shaded the large, congested street. Ahead, the New York Palace approaches.

"This is where we're staying?" Uhura says as the groundcar approaches. "It looks like a castle!"

"This is where the conference is being held," he replies.

The New York Palace does indeed look like a castle. It has tall spires, a large iron-cast gate and beautiful grey brickwork. Behind the heritage building is a large skyscraper which is almost all glass. Beside her, a vintage yellow cab rolls by them.

The groundcar pulls up in front of the iron gates and a bellboy greets them pleasantly.

"Wow," she says. "I mean - this is fancy."

He looks to her as they enter the giant gold glass doors to the extensive lobby, but he does not say anything. She trails behind him, feels like a bit overwhelmed and watches as her luggage is taken to a large elevator to the left. In the lobby there are double sweeping wooden staircase with rich blue and golden runners, designed in curling art patterns. The grand staircases frame a three story window and an amazing five tiered crystal chandelier. Every inch of this place is majestic, amazing, and totally out of Uhura's price range - or experience, she realises sourly as Spock came back from the lobby desk.

"The elevators are to the left, I believe," he says.

"They're not like the turbolifts at the Academy," Uhura mutters Spock pressed the button to call the elevator down. There's a man standing in the far left hand corner and his posture is so rigid, she thinks he could have a posture competition with Spock and come out on top. She leans closer to him and whispers, "This is fancy."

"So you stated," he replies, sliding his eyes across to her.

She shrugs a little. "I mean, it must be expensive."

"Must be," he agrees but does not say anything else on the matter.

The doors open. The butler wishes them a good day. There are only two rooms on this floor, Uhura realises, and Spock approaches the door to the left, presses his palm firmly against the touchplate and then it makes a small sound. He ushers for her to touch her palm and the touchplate registers her print as well. Spock presses a few buttons on the number pad then touches his hand again and the door _wooshes_ open, revealing the short lobby hall with shining wooden floorboards, white walls with gold skirting, and a oil portrait with a beautiful, elaborate golden frame. She enters ahead of Spock and steps into the main living area.

The room is painted white with rich red wood skirting boards. The carpet is a crimson diamond pattern and there is an extensive, comfortable reading area with green and red pinstriped chaises, lamps and a bookshelf full of paperback books - actual paperback books, they have to be very old and considerably expensive. Would they notice if one went missing? she wonders wildly. Perhaps they would. It would be in poor form to take a souvenir, even though she is sure some of these texts are early paperback editions. Beside the bookshelf is a large fern and a beautifully large window adorned with heavy cream curtains. The Empire State Building looms just in front of her, just a stone throw away to the left. It is dark and deco and beautiful.

"I can see the Empire State Building," she calls out to Spock, who has moved to explore another part of the apartment.

There are fresh white lilies in a square vase on the glass-topped coffee table in the living room. It has two generous white leather love seats, a large screen and a desk for a COMLINK, music device, and offers evergreen views of Central Park across the city.

There is no kitchen, but a small cocktail area beside the bathroom. Only one bathroom? She doesn't want to have to share but then realises she is really in no place to complain. Still, she-well- she has a lot of stuff and well, she doesn't really want to keep the Commander in waiting for having to share a bathroom. It is large - _enormous_ really, at least the size of her room at the Academy and that included Gaila's side as well! The floor is tiled marble which runs all the way up the walls. The bath, which could have easily fit three grown men, sinks into the marble and has two golden taps on each side.

There is an extensive mirror with Hollywood lighting - not the stupid light bulb she had to do her makeup under in her Academy room's bathroom, but this bathroom has more lights in it than her entire apartment. A white porcelain toilet and then something also porcelain which she was unsure of the use but knew she would never try in her time here, a double shower with actual running water. On the golden hanger are two fluffy white bathing robes with gold embroidery and hemming - so cliche but so perfectly perfect. Uhura takes one off and wraps it around herself. It is warm and smells of flowers and pressed linen. Lovely.

She follows a door across the bathroom through to a bedroom designed in soft blue. There is a king sized bed, four posted and heavy-looking and adorned with at least twenty different pillows, which together only take up less than half the bed - completely over the top and not at all necessary but there is such a large compulsion to fall into them Uhura could not resist.. Above the bed is an oil painting of ballerina's dressed in blue tutus, getting ready backstage. There is a fern - this one was not real, she realises, but it is very convincing - by the window, a bedside table on each side, a television, a music station, an alarm clock, and a heating panel.

"They could not secure two separate rooms," Spock's voice breaks her out of her reverie. He stands in the bathroom. "We must reside in the same apartment, but this room seems to be suitable."

"I was just snooping around, is this your room? Sorry! Um, I don't really mind. This place is great. Really great."

"I see," he replies. "You may have this room. The apartment allows adjustments to be made to only certain living areas, which will minimise any discomfort on both our parts. There are two bedrooms and two bathrooms. I hope you the changes in sleeping arrangements has not made you uncomfortable."

"Of course not!" she replies. "This place is lovely, Commander. The bathroom is as big as my dorm room!"

"Yes, it does seem a little extravagant," he agree. "However, Starfleet have arranged the Conference and have assigned us here."

She grins and rolls across the bed, "I guess we'll just have to see it out, then."

"Sarcasm?" he replies, curious. "Nevertheless, it is now 1216, we should endeavour to leave for the MET by 1300."

"Sounds do-able, I'll just go get changed," she says.

"We will rendezvous in the living room when we are prepared to depart," he agrees. "Your luggage is in the hall."

"Okay, won't be long," she promises. As she goes to retrieve her bags, she pauses by the window framing the Empire State Building and quickly takes a picture, sending it to Gaila.

Her response is almost instantaneous.

_That will be one affair to remember!_

She rummages through her luggage, shucks off her Starfleet uniform and pulls on a yellow sundress with a button up bodice and lace trimming around the hem. It is soft and settled just above her knees. Still modest, but just short enough to be fun and wander around the park. She pulls on a downy oversized white cardigan and slips on a pair of tan flats before gathering her shoulderbag and meeting Spock in the living room.

She does not find him in the living room, however - his back is to her in the reading room and he is inspecting the paperbacks settled on the shelf. She realises as she watches him flick through the brittle pages, she has never seen him out of his uniform. He wears black pants, a grey shirt, a navy blazer and then a black overcoat. His shoes are polished, black lace-ups with a rounded-toe. It's a little jarring, both because they are so differently dressed and just that, well, she's never wondered about his personal style - never really thought he had one, but he looks... nice.

"I'm ready," she says. "We should try to get there a little early."

He turns to her, puts the book on the shelf.

"Very well, then."

"Let's go see those dinosaurs."

"Indeed."

When they exit the elevator and walk into the lobby, it is very busy. There are a number of international delegates and the room is full of chatter. She looks to Spock and he finds a small side exit to avoid the large crowd. She can see a group of Organians, a few Terralites and she makes eye contact with a tall Andorian man before slipping through the doorway and into the large front garden. There are a number of groundcars lined up and bellboys are rushing around.

"Is the Ambassador here yet?" she asks, turning to Spock as they are let out of the large iron gates and onto Madison Avenue. Central Park is just behind them, only a small ,sunny walk.

"I have not been informed of his arrival, however he may have already checked in," he replies. "We will move hastily."

She understands what he's trying to say - we'll try not to run into anyone, he means, we'll try not to get caught up in Starfleet pleasantries until we really have to, I really want to see those dinosaurs. They make their way into Central Park and see a group of women working out with their baby strollers. There are couples having picnics and people cycling around the large path that circles the lake. The day is warm and sunny and a soft breeze bristles the trees and grass as they meander through Central Park leisurely. The MET comes into view and it's a grand old heritage building with a large entryway and even larger pillars. Uhura procures two tickets - two tickets please! and they're ushered through into the air conditioned space and Spock does up the top button of his jacket.

"This looks great," she hums, entering the first room. There are around twenty vases lined up in cabinets, illuminated softly by downlights.

"It is a vast exhibition. An impressive collection of artifacts," he adds, observing a terracotta vase with inked markings of women playing musical instruments, not unlike his own harp. Uhura looks at a smaller, rounder pot, used probably for pickling or transporting water - it's decorated by a family of wild boars.

"These are funerary vases, imported from Egypt," she points out. "Very interesting the blending and the influence of cultures, even back then." He nods and studies another piece before they both move into the next room. On the far wall is a large mosaic of an ancient battle. A brown haired man rides a horse into battle and the plaque states that the individual is Alexander the Great.

He looks to her from where he is studying a small stone tablet. "You enjoy cultural pursuits such as this?"

"Yes," she replies. "What do you enjoy, Commander? Fine art? Theatre?"

"Rarely," he replies. "My interests lie similar to yours. Have you witnessed the collection of early nomadic culture of Arlon 7 being shown in London at the moment?"

"No, have you?"

"No," he answers. "My mother expressed interest in attending, however, our schedules did not allow it. I did listen to the recording of Dr. Fessler's keynote lecture. If you are interested, I will send you the file. It discusses the effect of nomadic relationships with the Arlon people in the formation of their basic languages which develops parallel to successes in technology and society. She spent over two years studying their linguistic patterns while being undetected by the populace."

"They speak predominately in clicking sounds, don't they?" she asks, turning away from a sculpture.

"I believe so."

"Not unlike some dialects in Africa, then."

"I would say not."

She smiles at him, moving beside him to study a beaded necklace once worn by a high priestess. "Do you enjoy films?" she asks. "You joined us for the film, you remember. Do you usually watch Terran films?"

"Not frequently."

"Do you enjoy them?"

"Occasionally."

"Any specifically?"

"No. My mother enjoys the films of romantic nature, I recall her watching many of them in my youth while my father was at work. We did not watch them together when she became frustrated at my, what she defined as, have illogical plotlines with many flaws and I rarely find interest when that is the case."

Uhura laughs. "You gave her a commentary about the illogical plotlines and natures of relationship?"

"Indeed."

"Relationships are illogical, Commander."

"She would argue thus," he concedes as they move into the next room.

"What will she say when I inform her you voluntarily attended a viewing on such a illogical film?"

Spock looks at her for a moment, his mouth tight and his eyebrows raised just a little bit higher than what was bites her lip and laughs.

"I ask you keep that matter to yourself, cadet," he requests politely, but she is almost sure he is teasing her and she can't help but laugh a little more at the expression on his face. It's sort of like she has got him trapped, corner-to-corner, but he is trying to convince her that she has not. "Bringing up such an anecdote, while would improve the processes in which humans bond by sharing details of mutual friends, would not benefit myself in the least. Refrain yourself, Cadet."

"I promise," she says in a tone that conveys a meaning entirely opposite to her words.

"Sarcasm?" he asks. They exit the exhibition and it's 1346, they're running on-time and they leave through the grand entryway of the MET and back into breezy Central Park. He does not receive an answer to his question and notes that she probably did not realise it had been one.

Underneath a tall elm tree is a free bench and table and they take it. Spock reveals sandwiches from his shoulder bag and hands one to Uhura. She takes a bite - soft white bread, crunch lettuce and-

"Oh, this isn't replicated!" she grins.

"It is from the hotel kitchen."

"It's good," she nods. There's a blend of curry through the egg. "You enjoy spicy food?"

"It is typical of Vulcan cuisines," he replies.

"There is a new Vulcan restaurant opened Uptown," she says. "Have you been?"

"Negative."

"You should go," she says. "I get a little homesick sometimes; eating African food is a great way to feel like home."

"I do not experience homesickness, as you say," he replies. "It was my choice to leave Vulcan."

She considered this for a moment. "I agree. I guess, it's more that I miss my parents and my family, even though it was my choice to leave as well. Still," she says and shrugs her shoulders a little.

He concedes, "Still." And then he looks to her, looks at how she's watching the waterbirds float on the lake near by and says, "there are advantages to designing a city around a large park such as this," he notes.

"It's a good place to think," she sums up.

"Indeed."

"There's a place on San Francisco bay, a little cliff I like to sit near, on the city side - you see the lights of the bridge and the smell of the ocean. It's lovely to sit and watch the boats and the city lights. Relaxing, I guess," she replied.

"You should not venture off campus after hours alone, Cadet," he replies.

She laughs.

"Should we dine at the hotel restaurant?" he asks.

"Sounds fine," she smiles. "I mean, it's non-replicated, I may just order everything on the menu."

"Illogical," he says.

She grins and looks up at him from under her lashes. "You would think so."

He quirks an eyebrow at that.

"We should get going," Uhura says and finishes her sandwhich. "The dinosaurs are waiting for us."

"They are not. They are deceased."

She laughs. "Come on."

"You imply I am childish, cadet?" he replies, throwing the rubbish into the nearby bin.

"Not at all Commander."

"Your tone suggests otherwise," he counters. "There is a simulator that allows you to walk among them."

"I bet there is," she replies. "I will never understand boys and dinosaurs."

"I had an inherit interest in them, cadet," he replied. "I did not _love them_ as you aptly put."

"You have nothing similar on Vulcan?"

"A descendant from the le-matya. Sundwellers, which spent their entire lives in the air, were extinct by the time of Surak. Prehistoric life on earth is considerably more varied and were the basis for all evolution on earth," he explains. "An ancient le-matya was found near the village I grew up in by an archaeological team when my grandfather was a young boy."

"I haven't seen one either, well, I've seen an old egg of a dinosaur," she shrugs. They approach the museum, it's such a lovely white brick building, very similar to the MET and there's posters hanging from the awnings about an upcoming feature exhibitions on Andorian fauna. They enter and purchase tickets, though the dinosaurs exhibition is inlcuded on the general admissions, she is interested in seeing the butterfly enclosure afterwards.

She is acutely aware of how closely he stands when they study the remains of an infant Compsognathus and another unhatched egg which is fossilised beside it. The skeleton is small, a deep brown colour from the preservation stain and is held up by small wires and frames. They move through to the exhibition smoothly, taking time to study the fossils, the information cards, of course, he finds some inaccuracies based on his own study conducted when he was exactly 3.4 years old and his aunt had sent him a expensive hardcover print of a dinosaur book.

"thus, the original Apatosaurus that had been found two years prior was given the incorrect skull and was incorrectly identified as an adult when it was a juvenile - the rush to find more species incorrectly labelled an adult Apatosaurus as a Brontosaurus. It was not corrected until the early 20th century-,"

She doesn't notice he's speaking to her, and if he notices this fact he does not say anything. They move into the next room and study the air-borne descendants of birds and they talk about genetics and evolution, both on Earth and then on Vulcan before they move into the butterfly enclosure, to Uhura's delight.

* * *

><p>Thank you to everyone who has reviewed and I'm sorry this chapter has been a little late. I edited this all on the site's document manager which was a nightmare, and then I badly burnt my right hand so I couldn't move it for a few days and ugh - but it's almost Christmas and new year holidays and I'll finally have a moment to rest after a busy year working in retail.<p>

Also, thank you to everyone who has been reviewing and helping me with some small inaccuracies - I have watched TOS, but admittedly, it was when I was a lot younger and I really should re-watch it all again.

Great, well, happy holidays and be safe in whatever you are doing over this festive season. I'm travelling home, working on my novel and planning my move to Germany in the New Year. Please take the time to leave a quick review. They take 30 seconds and they're the only payment I get for this. I'll plan another update just before New Years, so look out for that.

~ Arlia'Devi


	9. Chapter 9

**Chapter Nine**

They will meet for dinner at exactly 1845. It takes Uhura twenty minutes to get dressed, then she's speaking to Gaila while she puts on her makeup and does her hair. Instead of her sundress, which is not appropriate, she opts for a simple long black dress with an empire waist she'd gotten on sale after first arriving in San Francisco. Gaila chooses the freshwater pearls from Cape Town and says she looks real Audrey Hepburn like, and wonders if she has a tiara. Surely a tiara is too much though, so Uhura pulls her hair up into a ponytail, blends the makeup down her neck again just to be sure before picking the COMM up from where it's resting against the mirror.

"Wow," says Gaila. "Could you make the Commander's dinner any worse? Smudge your eyeliner out on the corner a little - make it more smokey. Do you have a nude lipstick?"

"I just have a lip balm."

"That will do," she says. "Whack some of that on there. Wow your bathroom is fancy - can we live at that apartment instead of the one we have? The light blew in the bathroom again - I had to shower in the dark. I know where everything is, like to wash it, but still, not fun."

"You don't think it's too formal?"

"What is he wearing?"

"Don't know."

"Better to be, I guess in your case, over-dressed than under-dressed. But you could try the very under-dressed look and see where that gets you."

"I have to go to dinner now," she says, choosing to ignore the comment. Gaila's lips quirk up and she runs a hand through her hair.

"All right, all right. Eat dinner responsibly."

Gaila disappears from the screen and Uhura searches around for her shoes - black and mid-length heel. Patent leather and black suede. A birthday gift to herself and very expensive but so comfortable. And she does wonder in the pit of her stomach, if maybe this is not appropriate for two officers on duty, as Starfleet representatives nonetheless. But she is not showing any skin bear her arms and she's sure unexposed arms have never truly offended anyone really. Still.

She grabs her purse, stuffs her I.D. into it and another lip balm just so it feels a little heavy, like there are real things in there and she's not just carrying it so she doesn't fidget with anything.

When she meets him in the lobby he is wearing black slacks. They're tailored, pressed and fall perfectly around his ankles. They're... well, they're a little tight too, she realises. He's wearing a black sweater, rounded neck and it's a simple knit. Underneath he's wearing a white shirt. The collar is pressed down and the cuffs around his wrists are folded back against the jumper, secured with little cuff-links that are a simple oval in silver. But he looks good. More than good, really.

"Tell the truth, am I over-dressed?" she asks, approaching him.

Immediately she wishes she never asked the question because his gaze is on her and it's scrutinising. His eyes travel down her face, neck, chest, waist, to her legs and the hem of her dress before they meet her eyes again. She wants to twist away, look away, do anything that may distract him from the way he's studying her body but she can't.

Eventually he says, "Acceptable."

She nods and clears her throat.

"Ah. You look nice, too. I mean, professional."

"Thank you."

"Should we go?"

"Yes. It is currently 1852."

"Oh right," she says, rushing out to the doorway. "We're late. At least it's only downstairs." She runs out to the lobby and calls for an elevator. He meets her by the time it reaches them, and they enter in silence.

"Do you think we'll run into anyone?" she says. She knows how close he is standing, not in the sort of peripheral vision sort of way but the fact that she can feel his body heat almost prickling against her skin, and it's not a very small elevator either.

"Perhaps."

She almost turns, just so she can get a visual on how close he may just be to her, but the elevator opens to the restaurant floor and he steps out.

"Two," he says to the attendant: female, short, brown hair in a messy bun which was not at all professional enough for the establishment. Uhura had thrown up better buns half asleep. But the sloppy attendant notes her bookings and Spock doesn't say "Starfleet" or their names or anything, just "two" and the attendant is showing them to their seats.

"Away from the air-vents, but by the window. I hope this table is suitable sir," she says. "Please inform the staff if you have any other requirements."

Spock takes a second to survey the table situation and Uhura looks to the attendant, who looks as if she hopes desperately Spock won't say anything, or make any other demands. The room is cool, a lot cooler than she would have expected and Uhura considers the fact that this restaurant doesn't really cope with off-world requests all that well. She looks around. Yes, almost all the diners are Human.

"It's fine," Spock says.

Uhura sits.

"Fine has varying meanings, Spock, it's linguistically unacceptable," she teases him gently. "It's too cold in here, right?"

"It is not preferable."

"We could go somewhere else?"

"We are here," he says and that it seems, is the end of that.

She looks by the window their sitting at, at the grand glass that stretches from the floor to the ceiling all the way around the restuarant, providing a stunning vista to New York. And just over Spock's left shoulder she can see it. The Empire State Building. It's silent tonight, washed in the dull light of the city and almost haunting in it's old art deco architecture. There is something alluring about it. She doesn't think that maybe it's so romantic, like this, as it was. It's heavily covered in scaffolding on the lower floors and most of the buildings around it are high rise, thick glass, sloped and all ultra-modern. It's a relic. And maybe centuries ago, it may have been dearly romantic and lovely. But Uhura can't deny even like this, shrouded in night and crumpling a little, it's got a sort of hypnotic aura to it.

"Cadet?"

"This place is nice," she says quickly.

Spock raises his eyebrow. Just one. The left one.

"I'm sorry, I wasn't staring at you - the Empire State Building is behind you." He doesn't look over his shoulder to check. "I'm sorry if that was rude. And oh, I'm sorry, I said it was nice already. I know that linguistically annoys you."

"It's fine."

She laughs. "You're teasing me."

"What do you wish to eat?" he asks.

She realises she hasn't even looked at the menu.

"Permission to order an alcoholic beverage, Commander?" she asks

He looks up from over his own.

"Permission granted."

The waiter - tall, male, brown hair, white skin, maybe a South African accent - approaches with a PADD. Spock rests his menu in front of him.

"One glass of red wine please, mid-range pricing, your choice," she says to the waiter. "I'll also get the truffle and olive oil risotto, please."

"Very well, ma'am. And for you, sir?"

"The seasoned zucchini flowers with chilli and garlic," Spock orders.

"Very nice choice, sir, would you like a glass of wine with your meal?"

"Water will suffice."

"Very well."

Uhura looks out over the city. She can see Central Park from here, all lit up and beautiful. Across, the skyline just glitters and the streets are bustling. It's a cold night in New York, but there are still people everywhere.

"I don't even feel like I'm on duty," she laughs to Spock. "This place is so beautiful. I feel like I'm on vacation."

She looks to Spock and smiles. He is sipping on water, looking out to the skyline but she knows that he doesn't really feel the same way. It's cold outside, and he doesn't like the cold.

"Have you travelled?" he asks.

"Like, off-world?"

"Either."

She hums over her food. "Ah I guess, I went to Egypt when I was nineteen and did a tour there. That was lovely. I saw the Pyramids and the Sphinx. I went to China when I was younger, but I don't really remember it very well. You, Spock? Have you travelled much since arriving?"

"My mother is from Seattle. We travelled there when her sister was to marry when I was seven. We returned to travel to Geneva, Switzerland when I was ten. My father was on diplomatic business and my mother did not miss an opportunity to travel to Terra. However, when I returned to enlist in Starfleet, I traveled to Canada during my first mid-semester break, and then to Japan on my second."

"You didn't stay on campus?"

"No. Do you?"

"I'm thinking about writing a paper over summer."

"I see."

"Maybe get it published. It would, I mean, it would look great on my resume."

"Undoubtedly."

"And it would help with graduation. It would help in applying for an off-world internship. Which would help me get on the Enterprise."

"Your logic is sound," he comments.

She sighs and looks at him squarely.

"Do you think that's boring?"

"Not at all."

"Really? Gaila says I should, well, not work so much."

"It is illogical to do something you do not wish to please others," he says.

"I guess. Am I missing out on something, though, do you think?"

"If you do not do it, you may 'miss out' on the Enterprise," he says.

She nods.

"You're right, you know."

"I am aware of that fact."

"Thanks. I really appreciate that."

He finishes his first glass of water but there's a whole icy pitcher beside him.

"There is another conference in London if you are amenable to attending. It is scheduled to begin on the 13th of January," he says. "I have been scheduled to attend with Captain Pike as representatives of the Enterprise, but I am 78.9% certain he would prefer you to come in his place."

"But I am not a representative of the Enterprise," she said. "I wouldn't really know anything about it."

"I will give you the information of which you could translate for diplomats I may not be able to converse with."

She nods, "Well, that sounds more like my thing. Very well, I'll accept, Commander, thank you."

He pours himself another glass of water. "I will make the arrangements."

She sips on her wine. It's wonderfully fruity and light. The kind of wine she could drink a bottle of without realising. But she doesn't have a bottle because they can't charge it to the Starfleet account when only, really, one of them drinks.

"My brother returned my letter. He wishes to greet you through me, therefore, "hello Spock"," she says.

"I see. You should inform him I also send my greetings," he replies. She laughs.

"I will tell him you said so."

Their food arrives. Uhura's is served on a shallow, large dish and Spock's on a wooden board. He takes up his fork, stabs into a flower and chews it methodically. Uhura sips her wine again and begins to eat. The truffle risotto is amazingly creamy. It's got a hint of earthiness to it, and it's maybe a little salty but it is paired perfectly with the white wine.

"Is yours good?" she asks.

"Satisfactory."

"Great. Mine is great," she says.

And then they don't speak for a little while. Uhura enjoys her meal and looks over to Spock and then to the city again. It is only when he has finished almost half of his meal does he speak again.

"You may not be aware I am the First Officer of the _Enterprise_."

Uhura looks up from her meal.

"Thus why I am required in London."

She shakes her head then realises she wishes to congratulate him and that they are to contradictory messages.

"Shut _up_."

"I was not talking at that interval."

"I mean, congratulations, sir, that is a great achievement. It's been moved out of Iowa right?"

"Yes."

"You are excited?"

He pauses for a second, "Anticipating the challenge."

"You were on the _Farragut_ previously, weren't you?"

"Yes."

"And Pike's been named Captain. It will be a really amazing crew, I'm sure of it."

"You will submit your application? The _Enterprise_ will not be completed until your graduation. I am unsure who is the Bridge Communications Officer, however, I can inquire if the position has been confirmed and forward their contact details."

She drinks her wine, "That sounds good. Wow you really go all out for your TA's."

"You are teasing me."

"A little," she laughs. "But I am also very grateful."

When they finish their meal, there is little left to talk about. Spock does not eat dessert, so Uhura does not order it. When the waiter comes around, she just asks for the check even though their sticky date pudding has come out to the table next to theirs and it really looks amazing.

They travel up the elevator silently. They both reach for the button to their level and Uhura hesitates, so Spock reaches over her shoulder and presses the button for the both of us. She swallows and feel the elevator jerk to a start.

When they get into the apartment, Uhura takes her shoes off by the lounge area. Spock is studying the environmental controls by the door and adjusts them a little. She doesn't mind - it is warm in the apartment, but it is cosy. She makes her way into the reading room, which is just off of Spock's room and opens the curtains a little wider. The Empire State Building sits quietly in front of her and she curls up on the lounge before reaching over to grab at a book left by the side table.

"I'm not really that tired," she says when he enters. "I might just sit up and read a book. And I heard someone say there was a light show by the Empire State Building tonight."

Spock nods. "Very well."

"Are you going to sleep? I'll be quiet."

"I am planning on meditating.

"Ah. Okay. Well, I'll be quiet anyway."

"That would be appreciated."

The room lights up suddenly and Uhura turns to the window. The room is bathed in a deep purple, then it changes slowly into a soft blue. Spock watches as the light reflects off his hands, sees how it filters around Uhura's body and casts long shadows against the far wall.

It's not particularly awe inspiring, he thinks as he steps closer to see the lights move and dart around the building, reflecting onto the walls and through the windows. There are many other things he has seen that are much more spectacular to this - a dust cloud on his first time in space, the Northern lights when he visited Alaska three years ago, the colours and patterns around a black hole, space matter, it is all much more awe inspiring than a light show across a relic building. But Uhura watches it lazily, curls a little deeper into the lounge and opens her book.

"What is the attraction to this building?" he asks.

She looks up and there's a yellow shade across her face.

"What do you mean?"

"This is not particularly complex. It's merely lights coloured by a filter, and though the building has interesting architecture, I cannot seem to grasp your attraction to it," he says. "Why do you like it so?"

"I guess it's romantic."

"Romantic," he echoes. "Explain."

She shrugs.

"Does it hold some sort of romantic connection for you, cadet?"

"No, no," she laughs and shakes her head. "I guess that movie we watched together. The Empire State Building was something amazing for this city - you know, King Kong and everything. I guess for a lot of people back then it represented a lot to them, about working hard and success, and a lot of people proposed on the observation deck, I guess it began to stand for a lot of different things and romance was one of them. Though, I agree, it doesn't look very romantic, but back in the 20th century, it would have been lovely."

"I was often curious why the protagonists made the building a rendezvous," he said.

"Just unrealistic romances," she says. "I mean, it's a lovely movie, but it doesn't really represent real life."

"They are unrealistic?" he inquires.

"Completely," she nods. "They're just movies."

"She does not make it to the Empire State Building in that film," he recounts. "It is an emotional moment for both protagonists."

"Yeah," she nods. "That was sad."

Uhura watches the light show for a moment longer before she turns to Spock.

"Do you think you have enough practice for tomorrow night?" she asks.

Spock steps forward a little, looks down at Uhura and she smiles.

"Perhaps I could benefit from - ,"

Suddenly Uhura's COMM rings through. It's Gaila. She grabs it and looks to Spock.

"Ignore," she says.

"Call from Cadet Gaila was ignored," says the automated voice on the device. Uhura swallows and begins to scroll through online radio channels before finding something suitable.

"It's really easy, Commander, I promise."

He steps towards her and she puts the COMM down again. Taking up her hand, she tries to think of very little but the words to the song she knows vaguely. She definitely does not think about how warm his hand is, or how soft it is, or how when she pulls him a little bit closer, almost all his body is very hard and nice.

"Okay," she smiles. "Let's just start moving."

"Your assistance with this has been helpful, cadet," he says.

"It's no problem really. I guess I go above and beyond as a TA," she says. "Something you might want to consider in my final assessment."

He does not respond to that comment. They move around in a slow square, back and forth quietly and gently and not at all in a hurry. Uhura swallowed nervously and hoped her palm was not getting too sweaty. Spock's mouth was closed in a tight line but so close she could see the soft downy eyelashes that framed his brown eyes. Perhaps she likes his eyes the best, she thinks, and Gaila is very right, he is very attractive.

Spock moves his hand suddenly then, catching Uhura off guard but then they keep dancing and the music changes to a Doris Day classic.

"You're a good dancer, Commander," she hums.

"Vulcans are not _good dancers_, as you say, cadet."

She darts out her tongue to wet her lips.

"You can call me Nyota, sir."

"Pardon?"

"In private, I guess, like this, I'd prefer to be called by my first name. Nyota."

As soon as he says her name, slighted by his Vulcan pronunciation around the 'yo' sound, a way she's never had anyone else pronounce it, she knows she doesn't want to ever call her cadet, or Uhura, or a variation of any of her titles she may get.

He nods. "Very well, Nyota."

"Okay," she smiles. "Except on official Starfleet business, Spock."

It's better this way, she thinks. It's nicer. There's no fresh reminder of the ranks between them, even though he is her senior officer, her superior, her boss in every sense of the word, friendships like this can help her career.

The song finishes and Spock breaks his hand away from hers. She's thrown back into a reality when he steps away.

"You should get some rest, Nyota."

She has to agree, "Okay, sure. It's a big day tomorrow. Sleep well, Com - ah, Spock."

When she is brushing her teeth, she sneaks back into the reading room to grab her COMM and smells the distinct aroma of incense drifting throughout the apartment. She lingers for a moment before grabbing her COMM and retreating back into the bathroom. There are several messages from Gaila of unimportant quality, so she quickly types back a message, sitting on her bed with her legs crossed. Gaila does not reply to the next morning, but Uhura wakes up to the sound of her COMM chiming and to the realisation she had not slept much at all.

* * *

><p>Happy New Year, readers!<p>

Thank you for reading this little story of mine. I've started on the mini-sequel for this story, so though there are still a lot of chapters in this story and it's not at all near completed, you can look forward to the continuation of the story when this is over.

As always, thank you so much for reading. Your support means so much to me. Please take the time to leave a review before you go, even just a little one. I really love hearing from readers and they help me out a lot. I'll also be updating this story every week on a Thursday until it's complete. I do live in Australia, so for some American friends or it may be on a Wednesday.

Until next week!

~ Arlia'Devi


	10. Chapter 10

**Chapter Ten**

She wakes at 0711 to bright light filtering through the light curtains of the hotel room. She takes her comm off the charging dock and flicks through her messages - there's a letter from her brother waiting in her inbox and another message from Gaila. Ignoring the letter from Karem for the moment, Uhura stumbles out of bed. She pulls her underwear out, adjusts her shirt, ties her hair back. When she comes out into the dining room, Spock is already dressed, sitting on the dinette setting, sifting through articles on his padd.

"Hey," she says, tugging at the hem of her tank top.

He looks up from his padd and looks to where food has been delivered on the serving table. She pads over it, opens the lid - there's some replicated cereal in a bowl, a small jug of milk and then there's a warm pot. She opens the lid. It's fragrant and smells sligtly curried.

"It's plomeek soup."

"Really? Is it good?"

"Acceptable," he says.

She grabs the cereal bowl, pours the dry flakes into a tissue and grabs the ladle. She looks to Spock, "Do you mind?"

He does not.

"Did you sleep well?" she asks.

"Adequately," he replies.

"I see," she hums, moving to sit in front of him on the small dinette. There are only two chairs and her feet hit his accidentally. He scrolls down the news page.

"Anything interesting?" she asks, eating a spoonful. "This is good by the way. Really good."

'Humans often find it a little bland," he says, handing her his padd.

"Ah, thanks," she says, wiping her hand on her shirt and taking the device.

Spock has never seen her without makeup. This is not surprising however, and many of the women in Starfleet, both cadets and colleagues wear makeup routinely everyday. He notices it, but often it is not overtly noticeable. He has never known a woman intimately enough to notice differences in complexion. Uhura's skin is a little duller than usual, and she has a small mole just under her right eye. There's a scar just above her right eyebrow. Her eyelashes are long, dark and curve up. Her eyes are usually adorned with the blacked winged eyeliner, and now they're a slightly black smudge around the corners and underneath.

Her hair, which is usually immaculately pulled back or brushed, is curly and wired. It sits around her shoulders in big waves.

Uhura points to an article written on the Xenolinguistics Conference being held today. Among the group of diplomats speaking among themselves is a tall, aging Vulcan male.

"The Amabassador?"

"Indeed," he says.

Uhura looks back to the picture, but she doesn't recognise anyone else.

"Okay, I'll go get dressed," she says, pushing the soup bowl away and stacking it up. "This was good. By the way."

"We are scheduled to attend a lecture at 1030," he says, taking back his padd. "Followed by a luncheon at exactly midday, in which we will attend the conference beginning at 1300 until 1700, with dinner commencing at 1830."

"Long day," Uhura hums. "I should go have a shower. I'll be ready in around twenty minutes."

When she gets out of the shower the Starfleet ceremonial suit pant combo is laid out on the chair in her bedroom. She approaches the Starfleet greys and rubs the fabric through her hands - she's never worn the uniform like this, so official and totally daunting. Uhura pulls her hair back into a donut bun at the base of her head, hair parted to the side. It's simple, professional and it will wear well all day. When she smooths on her official greys, she runs her hands down the tailored side, across the hems and smiles. It looks good. She looks good. Like a real Starfleet officer. Like when she won't be a cadet anymore.

The Commander does not comment when she meets him in the attire, but she can't help to notice how well his greys fit him too - across his broad shoulders, then into his narrow waist. She doesn't continue on the train of thought, Spock has called the elevator and it's arrived, half full of people, mostly hotel staff. They make their way through the elevators and the hotel levels to the large conference room. It is already half-full of delegates and diplomats and ambassadors, all speaking in quite tones to each other in their own languages. At the front an Andorian woman and a younger man are setting up a presentation. She looks to Spock for direction and they take a seat beside two Benzite males who are speaking to each other in hushed tones. Uhura whispers a polite greeting as they approach, asking if the seats are taken. They are not. They are welcome to sit. They do.

The Benzites speak to her in hushed tones of thier own language - she is vaguely aware she's asked if the seats were free in a language that is not at all standard. She looks to Spock and wonders if he is looking for his parents, as she would be. But he is not moving, only watching the presentation being set up and she doesn't want to press it.

The lecture is interesting. She takes a few notes but knows that the Commander will remember it word for word so if she so desires to get a particular recount or phrase, he will be able to reiterate it. At the end of the lecture she needs a cup of coffee, maybe an apple or a muffin or a small nap. It had been a long lecture, mutli-faceted and very complex. She's read readings on the subject matter, but attending lectures with so much knowledge a prerequisite is a challenge. She's used to reference numbers, books, translations, supporting documentation, even ever-helpful logical Vulcan commanders to nudge her in the right academic direction. She's not sure she got all the information, even, it was all spoken so quickly. But she knows Spock will want to discuss it at length at a later period of time, so she slips out to the refreshments before he asks what she thought.

"I'm just going to get a coffee," Uhura says. "Real coffee bean grounded coffee - I may just live here forever." There's tea on offer as well, and Uhura watches Spock make up a cup. "See anyone you know?"

"My father," he replies.

"Oh really?" she says, looking around. She can't see the Ambassador. "Should we say hello?"

"He is speaking with my mother. We should greet them," he says, looking up. Uhura follows Spock's eyes and finds the Ambassador and his wife speaking to each other while drinking tea. Amanda cradles the cup in her hands. She's wearing a grey robe with a wrap around her head. Grey-brown hair still falls around her face in gentle waves. She turns to Spock and notices he's disappeared. She turns back to find him crossing the floor towards his family and Uhura runs to catch up.

Sarek is wearing a beige and gold robe. He is taller than Uhura expected. Spock is a little taller than his mother, but not at all close to as tall Sarek is. Sarek has a stern gaze, narrowed eyes and a tight-lipped mouth.

She reaches Spock as he finishes his traditional greeting. He turns to her, " A colleague, Cadet Uhura."

Uhura greets Sarek traditionally, which he returns politely, and then shakes Amanda's hand.

"Lovely to meet you, Uhura," she says.

"Thank you, Lady Amanda," Uhura says, letting her hand fall down to the side. "It's an honour to meet you. I have read almost everything you've written on Vulcan-Terran linguistics. Your life is fascinating. Did you enjoy the lecture?"

"I found it very... stimulating," she says. "I did disagree with some of the points."

Sarek speaks then, about his opinions on the lecture and Amanda listens for a moment before she says, "Perhaps we should extend an invitation for lunch and speak further on the issue?" she says. "Care to join us, Uhura? Spock? Unless you have other arrangements."

"We do not," says Spock and Uhura is more than happy to spend time with his very interesting, extremely intelligent mother. They take a table by the window. It faces a garden with a large water feature. It's a calming scene though the restaurant is so busy, full of diplomats and the waiters are almost everywhere: trying to get people to sit, trying to get orders, trying to clarify dietary requirements. A pitcher of water is placed on the table and Amanda smiles.

"Ah, Terran hospitality," she smiles to her husband and Uhura wants to know what that means.

"So, Spock tells me your a xenolinguistics track cadet?" Amanda says.

"Yes," she nods. "It was something I had considered after taking a law class in my first year of study in Mombassa - I had considered law was something I had wanted to do, and when I took a class in Law in Universal Federation, I became heavily interested in joining Starfleet. Law didn't offer the flexibility I desired, and I had given up aqll my language classes to study law full time. It wasn't fulfilling. I enjoyed learning languages much more than my actual degree."

"Interesting," Amanda replies. "I studied Literature and History at Oxford University, I moved over from Seattle when I was twenty. For a while I spent much time teaching children across London. It pleases me my son takes after me in some respect." Then she turns to look at Spock. "Have you been well, son?" she asks. "We are permitted to speak casually and intimately even though we are on business?"

"Indeed," he replies. "I have been well."

The waiter comes past and asks for an order - to not seem rude or to hold up the busy restaurant, they order quickly. Uhura gets a pecan and salmon salad, Amanda a baked vegetable quiche with bacon, Sarek orders a bean salad with corriander and quinoa, Spock tries a vegetarian pasta dish with sun-dried capsicum and pesto. The waiter is satisfied, nods and thanks them then goes on his way. Almost the whole restaurant is full now and it's becoming very loud.

"The Cadet wishes to apply for the Vulcan off-world internship," Spock says suddenly.

"That is impressive, Cadet," Amanda says, "It would be suited for you, I think."

"I have not applied - I will, but there the statistics are against me."

"Spock, I must badger you, I cannot wait any longer," Amanda says, turning to her son. Uhura hides her smile behind her water glass. There is something amusing about the relationship between Spock and his mother. Despite his protests, it seems she is the only one who may force him into a corner. If she was ever to see Spock squirm uncomfortably, perhaps sitting at a table with his parents and colleague would be the most likely place. "You shall be home for Christmas this year?"

"I have filed time off-planet," he admits. "It has not been completely processed or approved yet."

The Luncheon ends and they part their ways to attend yet another lecture on diplomacy, and language throughout the galaxies. Uhura sits silently beside the Commander and and an Axanar diplomat and takes a few notes here and there. There are several speeches, including the Vulcan Ambassador. His is shorter than the rest, but it's interesting and flawlessly delivered.

The lecture finishes at 1643 and Spock and Uhura make their way to their suite. She tells Spock she'll be ready by the time they must depart for the ball and he does not question what she intends to do between now and then. Frankly she is exhausted. She showers quickly, changes her underwear and doesn't bother to dress before slipping into bed quietly.

* * *

><p>She meets Spock in the foyer at 1800. He looks just the same, though his uniform smells a little of Vulcan spices. She realises that perhaps she was not the only one in need of a time-out. He looks refreshed and timelessly classic. The angles of his jawline and the cut of his straight glossy hair are visual qualities Uhura has always admired, but now they seem considerably more predominant than previously.<p>

"Ready?"

"Your observation skills are astute."

"Don't tease me," she says and opens the door before calling the elevator. He doesn't say another word on the way down.

The ball is a largely social occasion and as soon as they enter the beautiful ballroom, she knows the Commander is dreadfully uncomfortable. She can see why he does not partake in this side of the conferences - mingling with colleagues across the Quadrant is a good way to improve intergalatic relations and may aide in one's career, but the sheer number of people all speaking and just _being_ one space is completely daunting.

A waiter passes them and offered a tall glass of champagne. Uhura takes it, but Spock passes politely.

"Anyone you know?"

"Many," he replies.

"Should we mingle?" she smiles, though he looks anything but enthused. "Relax, we won't stay long, I promise. I kinda feel like you're my babysitter you know."

"Explain."

"Well you wouldn't go here with Captain Pike, would you?" she says, passing through a group of Andorian diplomats towards where she can see the Vulcan ambassador speaking to a large group of people.

However, she is sidetracked by seeing a group of Trill diplomats, and she's only just began to work on her Trill - it's not at all fluent but she's never spoken to a Trill before, or heard any authentic accents. She's relied mostly on recordings and a translator which she is two-thirds of the way through re-calibrating and updating it's translations.

To her delight, the Trills speak back to her in their native language and of all things, they begin to converse about weather. If she thinks it's cliche, she doesn't linger on the thought for too long. Beside her, the Commander does not speak.

Uhura has a very lengthy discussion about the internship on the Trill Science Ministry with one of the Trills in particular. His name is Tamsash and he has been particularly forward in providing Uhura with the knowledge and deadlines of applying for the internship program. He speaks well, his accent is only light - evidence of being a diplomat for many years, and though he only speaks Trill and Standard, he speaks both very well.

The Commander does not say anything when they part from the Trill diplomats. Uhura thinks she should have exchanged COMM ID's with Tamsash, but there may be a better time to do that later in the evening. She really shouldn't pester everyone they meet over off-planet internships, really...

She gets another glass of champagne from the waiter and he offers a strawberry to compliment it. Uhura laughs but takes it anyway.

They approach Sarek and Lady Amanda, who are speaking with Organian diplomats. Spock greets his mother, who is also cradling a glass of champagne. The Ambassador is in deep conversation and does not greet them, instead, Lady Amanda moves away from him to speak.

"You are enjoying the party?" she asks, looking to her son and smiling. Then she corrects, "Social gathering."

"Yes, it's wonderful," Uhura replies. "I am very grateful that I was selected to accompany the Commander - it-,"

"I am to be excused from this conversation," Spock says suddenly, noticing that his father is ushering him towards his conversation with the Organians. He does not know what would be more dull - listening to his mother and colleague speak of nostalgic human qualities, or his father talk of diplomatic agreements, but he chooses the former and leaves Uhura and his mother alone.

Amanda takes two more glasses of champagne from the waiter and handed one to Uhura. She looks down to her glass and realises it's suddenly empty - strawberry and all. She'd drank so fast! This must definitely be her last drink!

"Alcohol is not apparent on Vulcan," says Amanda. "Wine is imported for my birthday - my favourite bottle, just one, one day a year. I was never a large drinker, but I miss it terribly."

"It must be hard living permanently off-world," Uhura remarks.

Amanda nods. "The Vulcan climate is hospitable to humans but it is harsh, barren but unmistakably beautiful. Have you been?"

"Never," she says. "I would like to, someday."

Amanda nods, then looks down to her champagne and takes a sip. When it comes away from her lips she say, "he speaks of you, you know."

"Pardon?"

"Mentioned you once or twice in passing."

Uhura laughs gently. "I am flattered."

"He rarely speaks of anyone on Earth other than Captain Pike," Amanda says. "He will never show it but you impress him."

"We just work together," she says. "I'm flattered, really. Your son is very smart - he's a genius, I mean, you must be proud."

"Very," Amanda smiles. "Starfleet suits him."

"I see," Amanda replied. "Vulcans spend so long disciplining themselves not to show emotion, or allow it to persuade them, but they still possess emotions - some even deeper and harder to understand than Humans. Sometimes it's hard to read true intentions. They say they don't understand us. Humans are simple, I have always thought, but that's my bias. I have spent half of my life living among Vulcans, married one, raised one; I know even less I think than I did before I met Sarek."

Uhura sips her champagne. "I don't think the Commander and I disagree often," she says, despite the fact that she doesn't really know what Amanda means by her comment on Vulcan emotion, or lack there of. "Often is the key word, but I must always disagree in a logical manner. How long have you and the Ambassador been together?"

"Almost thirty five years," she answers.

"I suppose it is the emotional way we can react to certain situations," Uhura replies. "When someone dies, we cry, which is a reaction to sadness, that is logical. More complex situations, like an argument over the rubbish bin, or domestic things - I argue with my roommate, an Orion woman, when I attempt to pay for our meal. Those emotional responses are not logical, I suppose, it's all mixed up with culture and pride and a sense of self."

"It is accustomed that the individual who has invited the other out pay for the meal, unless otherwise stated," Amanda explains. "Unless it is said individual's birthday or a celebration for individual. I believe I may have actually written the book on logical resolution to illogical Human problems."

"Fantastic title," Uhura grins, finishing her glass of champagne - was that her third, or her fourth?

"It is, isn't it?" she laughs. Then she says, "We shall keep in touch. We shall exchange COMM IDs and if you wish to experience Vulcan culture during holidays at Starfleet, you may stay in our quarters."

Uhura chokes on her champagne. Communicating with her Commander's mother? Lady Greyson is gracious and intelligent and a role model to any woman this century, but she can't help but wonder if it may cause tension among the family, or if she does take up Lady Greyson's gracious offers of staying in her home - will she see Spock there? Will it be awkward? Will it be awkward if she grows closer to his parents.

She can't say for sure so all she says is, "That is most gracious, Lady Amanda. I don't want to be an inconvenience to yourself or your husband, however."

"We have many rooms and hardly ever fill any," she replies. "It will be nice to have company around the house. Spock informed me you are from Kenya? Was it difficult relocating so far away?"

"I could ask the same for you," says Uhura. "Earth travel is so much faster now - you can get a shuttle anywhere, be beamed aboard a starship orbiting, all that. Sometimes it still feels far away though."

Amanda opens her mouth to reply but Spock is suddenly by her side. The music changes suddenly. It's got a deep drum beat and it's faster than what she is used to. Spock looks at his mother and Uhura looks between them, as if she can figure out what they're saying between them just by reading their stares.

"Spock, I am hardly a master at it, I'd embarrass you," says Amanda.

"I am a master," he replies. "A customary dance."

"And your father?"

"Arranged the drums."

"Ah," says Amanda. "Very well, then."

The music starts to become louder and the audiotorium is dimmed considerably. Spock moves to the centre and his mother follows. Then suddenly Spock moves first, in a flurry of movement and Amanda dodges, rolls and moves out of the way, underkicks and Spock dodges that. The crowd gathers to watch the performance, and Uhura stands in amazement. She cradles her empty champagne glass in her hand and when a waiter offers her a new one, she declines. She only takes her eyes off of the suus mahna presentation for a moment but suddenly Spock is on the ground and Amanda dodges an attack. It continues on for a few more minutes and then they complete the routine. It doesn't look like so much as an ancient martial art, in this setting, as it does a real dance. Almost similar to ancient African warrior dances, it's beautiful and fierce and then she realises, Spock could always dance and why did he-

"That was wonderful, son," Amanda says.

"You have improved greatly, mother."

"Ah, Smark has been instructing me on weekends," she says.

The jazz music sparks up again, although the hall stays very low. All around people are suddenly dancing. There are some Andorian and Organians looking around a little awkwardly, but there was a small group of humans dancing vibrantly and then another Andorian joined in and a large crackle of laughter burst through the hall. Uhura smiles and turns to Spock, but he's gone. In his place is Tamsash, the Trill diplomat.

"Would the lady like to dance?"

Tamsash is a tall man, soft brown hair in a loose soft haircut that would not ever be appropriate for Starfleet. He is an attractive man and she is interested in studying the spots that run down the side of his face and neck a little closer, so she accepts. He smiles brilliantly, takes her hand and leads her away from the edge of the dance floor. She looks around a little for Spock, but she can't see him in such a dim light.

"Jazz must be universal," she says. "Everyone is dancing."

"Even the Vulcan," laughs Tamsash. The music is upbeat now, and almost everyone is on the dancefloor. She wants to stop and look around, try and see almost all the cultures intermixing and getting to know each other, but suddenly Tamsash's hand is on the low of her back and she turns to look him back in the eye. "Now I have really seen everything…," he continues, then clears his throat and says in Trill "_A dancing Vulcan, and the most beautiful Terran woman I have ever seen_."

Uhura clears her throat, "_Thank you for your compliment, but I am involved with another._"

"A symbiont?" laughs Tamsash.

"No. A colleague at Starfleet."

"Ah," Tamsash says with a short hum. They spin together and it's almost dizzying. "See symbionts…," Then he dips Uhura and she's reeling from being tossed around, though she consideres, Tamsash is a wonderful dancer. "They're a lot less stress. I mean, they don't exactly cuddle - that's probably the worst part about them."

"Where did you learn to dance like this?"

"Ballroom dancing was an elective," he says. "Maybe I watch a lot of Terran films, maybe it's just beginnner's luck."

"You're teasing me."

"It is a common trait between Trills and Orions," he replies. "So this… partner of yours… what is so great about him? Or her? No judgement."

"Why are you so insistent?" Uhura smiles. "Your people rarely have aligned romantic feelings as Humans - you assume we would be compatible? And it's a him."

Tamsash leans in closer, his cheek almost resting against Uhura's temple.

His breath is warm against the shell of his ear when he says, "And Vulcans and Humans are romantically compatible?"

Uhura straightened up. "Sir, I don't know what you're talking about."

You've been together all night - you were out at dinner, and lunch -"

"We're colleagues that means noth-,"

He grins against the skin of her cheek. "And he's almost exclusively watching us."

Uhura pulls away. "He is my superior officer, supervisor and colleague. There is nothing going on between us. Don't do that. I don't... I don't like that I-,"

The music stops suddenly and Tamsash's arms drop from her body. At once, a cool air passes between them and he steps back and away from her. Uhura breaths in deeply, trying to not make it so obvious she is trying to desperately catch her breath. And though she wants to look around and try and locate where Spock is, she has to keep her eyes fixed on Tamsash's, hard and unrelenting because she will not be perceived that way! By anyone, ever!

"I'm teasing, Cadet," Tamsash says. "I apologise, I was out of line. You speak Trill fluently and are pleasant company. I am sorry if I have been forward. The offer still stands if you apply for the Internship on my home planet."

"Thank you, I-,"

"Cadet." It's Spock, cutting in from her right side.

"Commander," she says, clearing her throat a little.

Tamsash looks between the two. "You have a bright colleague, Commander," he says. "We were just discussing Trill adverbs and syntax at great length. She has a very natural accent for some who has never actually met a Trill before."

Spock only nods at this. "Cadet Uhura is the top xenolinguistics track cadet."

"I am?" Uhura butts in. "Like out of everyone at Starfleet, or just my year?"

Spock does not reply. She wants to follow up the matter but he is speaking with someone else now, who must be another Vulcan visitor and she doesn't want to interrupt, so she goes to the bar and orders another drink. She looks around and sees no one available to mingle and she doesn't really feel like being that social anymore, is kind of exhausted by the whole thing. She doesn't want to impose on Spock and his parents, so when he turns away from the Vulcan to speak to Sarek and Amanda in wonderful lyrical Vulcan and maybe she could possibly sit there like a fly on the wall and listen to them speak all night.

Spock turns to her,

"I'm going to go upstairs," she says and then turns to Amanda and Sarek and says, "It's been wonderful meeting you both, Amanda please let's exchange COMM IDs before you leave the conference."

Amanda nods and Uhura says goodbye in the traditional Vulcan signal, Spock says, "I will accompany you."

"No," she says, "Stay, it's fine. You rarely see your parents, Spock, please not on my behalf."

"Oh Spock," says Amanda. "I must tell you about the new wing of the University the council are designing, it will be most beneficial."

Spock hesitates and then Uhura smiles and says goodnight, walking through the crowd. When she gets through the doorway and out into the cool halls she is glad to have found that Spock has not followed her. She calls the elevator and rides it to the top floors, ignoring an intoxicated couple pressed up against the far wall and notices that her nailpolish has chipped a little. When she gets into the room, the lights turn on. She showers, changes into her pyjamas - it is almost one in the morning and she is aching and exhausted. On the bed she scrolls through the messages on her COMM - one from the dean, four from Gaila, one from her sister, one from her mother. She doesn't reply to any of them, though she reads them all.

Later she doesn't hear Spock enter the apartment. Already asleep and fallen into her pillow, phone cradled in her hand and curled to her sider, she doesn't notice him standing at her doorway. It doesn't even register when he takes the few steps towards her bedside table and taps the lamp off, before leaving and closing the door behind him

* * *

><p>I am so so so sorry this update is late. Much apologies! But it is a little bit longer than the others to make up for it. Thank you to those people who took the time to leave a review on the last chapter - we passed 50 reviews and it's simply amazing you guys come back regularly to follow my little story.<p>

Please take the time to review before you go! Check back next week for the next chapter. Your support means the world to me!

~ Arlia'Devi


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